'rt? 


THE 
CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

WANDERINGS  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS 

i 


BY 

WALTER  E.  TRAPROCK,  F.R.S.S.E.U. 


. 

c  -    UI/UY 

WITH  SEVENTEEN  ILLUSTRATIONS 
AND  A  MAP 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


r 

0   6 


COPYRIGHT,  1921,  BY 

G.  p.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

Printed  in  the   United  Stateg  of  America 


DEDICATION 
TO  THE  GIRLS  WE  LEFT  BEHIND— 

KIPPIPUTUONA 

(DAUGHTER  OF  PEARL  AND  CORAL) 

LUPOBA-TILAANA 

(MisT  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN) 

BABAI-ALOVA-BABAI 

(ESSENCE  OF  ALOVA) 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  LOVINGLY  DEDICATED 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 

Of  late  the  lure  of  the  South  Seas  has  laid  its 
gentle  spell  rather  overwhelmingly  upon  American 
readers.  To  be  unread  in  Polynesiana  is  to  be 
intellectually  declasse.  ...  In  the  face  of  this  avid 
appetite  for  tropic-scented  literature,  one  may  well 
imagine  the  satisfaction  of  a  publisher  when  offered 
opportunity  of  association  with  such  an  expedition 
as  that  of  the  Kawa,  an  association  involving  the 
exclusive  privilege  of  publishing  the  manuscript  of 
Walter  E.  Traprock  himself. 

The  public,  we  feel,  is  entitled  to  a  frank  word 
regarding  the  inception  of  this  volume.  Now  at 
last  it  is  possible  to  withdraw  the  veil  of  secrecy 
which  has  shrouded  the  undertaking  almost  until 
the  date  of  publication.  Almost,  we  say,  because 
some  inklings  of  information  found  their  way  into 
the  newspapers  early  this  summer.  The  leak,  we 
have  reason  to  be  believe,  is  traceable  to  a  Marque- 

iz 


x  PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 

san  valet  who  was  shipped  at  Papeete  to  fill  the 
place  left  vacant  by  William  Henry  Thomas,  the 
strange  facts  surrounding  whose  desertion  are 
recorded  in  the  pages  which  follow. 


pay 
[noth- 


so  lost 

shell   exploded  etas) 
while    his     men    were     consol 
after  the  attack. 


"Filbert  Islands"  Found 
by  South  Seas  Explorers 

Special  to  The  Evening  Teleoram. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  Friday  .-Returning 
from  an  extensive  exploring  trip  in  the 
South  Seas,  the  auxiliary  yacht  Kawa,  i 
•which  reached  this  port  today,  reports 
the  discoevry  of  a  hew  group  of  Poly 
nesian   Islands     The  new  archipelago 
has  been  named  the  Filbert  Islands,  be- 
cause  of  the  extraordinary  quantity  of  | 
nuts  of  that  name  found  there,  accord 
ing  to  the  ship's  company. 

The  Kawa  is  owned  by  Walter  E. 
Traprock.  of  Derby,  Conn.,  head  of  the 
expedition.  Traprock  leaves  for  Wash 
ington  today,  where  he  will  lay  before 
the  National  Geographic  Society  data 
concerning  his  explorations. 


The  telltale  newspaper  item,  reproduced  above, 
outlines  the  story  behind  this  volume.  What  is 
not  made  clear  is  the  fact  that  the  entire  expedition 
was  painstakingly  planned  many  months  ago,  the 
publishers  themselves  making  it  financially  possible 
by  contracting  with  Dr.  Traprock  for  his  literary 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE  xi 

output.  Provision  was  also  made  for  recording  every 
phase  of  experience  and  discovery.  With  this  in 
view,  Dr.  Traprock's  literary  attainments  were 
complemented  by  securing  as  his  companions  the 
distinguished  American  artist,  Herman  Swank,  and 
Reginald  K.  Whinney,  the  scientist.  Ry  this 
characteristic  bit  of  foresight  was  the  inclusive  and 
authoritative  character  of  the  expedition's  findings 
assured. 

How  well  we  recall  our  parting  with  Traprock. 

"Any  further  instructions?"  queried  the  intrepid 
explorer  from  the  shadow  of  that  ingenious  yard- 
arm. 

"None,"  I  replied.  "You  understand  perfectly. 
Get  the  goods.  See  South  Sea  life  as  it  actually  is. 
Write  of  it  without  restraint.  Paint  it.  Photo 
graph  it.  Spare  nothing.  Record  your  scientific 
discoveries  faithfully.  Re  frank,  be  full.  .  .  ." 

"Trust  us!"  came  back  Traprock's  cheery  cry, 
as  the  sturdy  little  Kawa  bore  them  toward  their 
great  adventures. 

Herein  are  recorded  many  of  their  experiences 
and  discoveries,  contributions  of  far-reaching  sig 
nificance  and  appeal. 

Uninfluenced  by  professional  self-interest,  un 
shaken  by  our  genuine  admiration  for  its  prede- 


xii  PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 

cessors,  and  despite  our  inherent  inclination  toward 
modest  conservatism,  we  unhesitatingly  record  the 
conviction  that  "The  Cruise  of  the  Kawa"  stands 
preeminent  in  the  literature  of  modern  explora 
tion — a  supreme,  superlative  epic  of  the  South 
Seas. 

G.P.P. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

We  get  under  way.  Polynesia's  busiest  corner.  Our 
ship's  company.  A  patriotic  celebration  rudely  inter 
rupted.  In  the  grip  of  the  elements.  Necessary  repairs. 
A  night  vigil.  Land  ho! Page  1 

CHAPTER  II 

A  real  discovery.  Polynesia  analyzed.  The  astounding 
nature  of  the  Filberts.  Their  curious  sound,  and  its  rea 
son.  We  make  a  landing.  Our  first  glimpse  of  the 
natives.  The  value  of  vaudeville  ....  Page  15 

CHAPTER  III 

Our  handsome  hosts.  En  route  to  the  interior.  Native 
flora  and  fauna.  We  arrive  at  the  capital.  A  lecture  on 
Filbertine  architecture.  A  strange  taboo.  The  serenade. 

Page  29 

CHAPTER  IV 

A  few  of  our  native  companions.  Filbertine  diet. 
Physiological  observations.  We  make  a  tour  of  the  island. 
A  call  on  the  ladies.  Baahaabaa  gives  a  feast.  The  em 
barrassments  of  hospitality.  An  alcoholic  escape. 

Page  43 

CHAPTER  V 

A  frank  statement.  We  vote  on  the  question  of  matri 
mony.  A  triple  wedding.  An  epithalmic  verse.  We 
remember  the  Kawa.  An  interview  with  William  Henry 
Thomas.  Triplett's  strategy  Safe  within  the  atoll. 

Page  59 


xiv  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  VI 

Marital  memories.  A  pillow-fight  on  the  beach.  A  deep- 
sea  devil.  The  opening  in  the  atoll.  Swank  paints  a 
portrait.  The  fatu-liva  bird  and  its  curious  gift.  My 
adventure  with  the  wak-wak.  Saved!  .  .  Page  75 

CHAPTER  VII 

Excursions  beyond  the  outer  reef.  Our  aquatic  wives. 
Premonitions.  A  picnic  on  the  mountain.  Hearts  and 
flowers.  Whinney  delivers  a  geological  dissertation. 
Babai  finds  a  fatu-liva  nest.  The  strange  flower  in  my 
wife's  hair Page  89 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Swank's  popularity  on  the  Island.  Whinney's  jealousy. 
An  artistic  duel.  Whinney's  deplorable  condition.  An 
assembly  of  the  Archipelago.  Water-sports  on  the  reef. 
The  Judgment Page  103 

CHAPTER  IX 

More  premonitions.  Triplett's  curious  behavior.  A  call 
from  Baahaabaa.  We  visit  William  Henry  Thomas. 
His  bride.  The  christening.  A  hideous  discovery. 
Pros  and  Cons.  Out  heart-breaking  decision.  A  stirrup- 
cup  of  lava-lava Page  119 

CHAPTER  X 

Once  more  the  Kawa  foots  the  sea.  Triplett's  observa 
tions  and  our  assistance.  The  death  of  the  compass- 
plant.  Lost!  An  orgy  of  desperation.  Oblivion  and 
excess.  The  Kawa  brings  us  home.  Our  reception  in 
Papeete.  A  celebration  at  the  Tiare  .  .  .  Page  135 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
PAGE 

THE  AUTHOR  AND  His  ISLAND  BRIDE.       Frontispiece 

CAPTAIN  EZRA  TRIPLETT 6 

A  BEWILDERED  BOTANIST 10 

THE  W.  E.  TRAPROCK  EXPEDITION       ...  22 

BABAI  AND  HER  TAA-TAA 34 

WALTER  E.  TRAPROCK,  F.R.S.S.E.U.  ...  38 

GATHERING  DEW-FISH  ON  THE  OUTER  REEF    .  48 

HERMAN  SWANK 52 

LtJPOBA-TlLAANA,  MlST  ON  THE   MOUNTAIN         .         70 

WATCHFUL  WAITING 80 

GOLDEN  HARMONIES        .       .       ...       .94 

WILLIAM  HENRY  THOMAS 98 

THE  LAGOON  AT  DAWN  (WHINNEY'S  VERSION)  .  108 

THE  LAGOON  AT  DAWN  (SWANK'S  VERSION)      .  112 

THE  NEST  OF  A  FATU-LIVA 124 

A  FLEDGLING  FATU-LIVA 130 

BAAHAABAA  MOURNING  THE  DEPARTURE  OF  His 
FRIENDS 140 


XT 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 


CHAPTER  I 

We  get  under  way.  Polynesia's  busiest  corner. 
Our  ship's  company.  A  patriotic  celebration 
rudely  interrupted.  In  the  grip  of  the  elements' 
Necessary  repairs.  A  night  vigil.  Land  ho! 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KA WA 


CHAPTER  I 

"Is  she  tight?"  asked  Captain  Ezra  Triplett. 
(We  were  speaking  of  my  yawl,  the  Kawa). 

"As  tight  as  a  corset,"  was  my  reply. 

"Good.    I'll  go." 

In  this  short  interview  I  obtained  my  captain 
for  what  was  to  prove  the  most  momentous  voyage 
of  my  life. 

The  papers  were  signed  forthwith  in  the  parlor 
of  Hop  Long's  Pearl-of-the-Orient  Cafeteria  and 
dawn  of  the  following  day  saw  us  beyond  the 
Golden  Gate. 

I  will  omit  the  narration  of  the  eventful  but  or 
dinary  occurrences  which  enlivened  the  first  six 
months  of  our  trip  and  ask  my  reader  to  transport 
himself  with  me  to  a  corner  with  which  he  is  doubt 
less  already  familiar,  namely,  that  formed  by  the 


4      THE;  CRpiSijiOF  THE  KAWA 

intersection  6i  the  equator  with  the  180th  merid 
ian. 

This  particular  angle  bears  the  same  relation  to 
the  Southern  Pacific  that  the  corner  of  Forty- 
second  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue  does  to  the  Atlan 
tic  Seaboard.  More  explorers  pass  a  given  point 
in  a  given  time  at  this  corner  than  at  any  other  on 
the  globe.* 

It  was  precisely  noon,  daylight-saving  time,  on 
July  4th,  1921,  when  I  stood  on  the  corner  referred 
to  and,  strange  to  say,  found  it  practically  deserted. 
To  be  more  accurate,  I  stood  on  the  deck  of  my 
auxiliary  yawl,  the  Kawa,  and  she,  the  Kawa,  wal 
lowed  on  the  corner  mentioned.  To  all  intents  and 
purposes  our  ship's  company  was  alone.  We  had 
the  comforting  knowledge  that  on  our  right,  as  one 
faced  the  bow,  were  the  Gilbert  and  Marshall 
groups  (including  the  Sandwiches),  on  our  left  the 
Society,  Friendly  and  Loyalty  Archipelagoes, 
back  of  us  the  Marquesas  and  Paumotus  and,  di 
rectly  on  our  course,  the  Carolines  and  Solomons, 
celebrated  for  their  beautiful  women.t  But  we 
were  becalmed  and  the  geographic  items  mentioned 
were,  for  the  time  being,  hull-down.  Thus  we 

*  See  L.  Kluck.  Traffic  Conditions  in  the  South  Seas,    Chap.   IV.f  pp. 
83-92. 
f  See  "Song  of  Solomon."  King  James  Version. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA        5 

were  free  to  proceed  with  the  business  at  hand, 
namely,  the  celebration  of  our  national  holiday. 

This  we  had  been  doing  for  several  hours,  with 
frequent  toasts,  speeches,  firecrackers  and  an  occa 
sional  rocket  aimed  directly  at  the  eye  of  the 
tropical  sun.  Captain  Triplett,  being  a  stickler 
for  marine  etiquette,  had  conditioned  that  there 
should  be  no  liquor  consumed  except  when  the 
sun  was  over  the  yard-arm.  To  this  end  he  had 
fitted  a  yard-arm  to  our  cross-trees  with  a  universal 
joint,  thus  enabling  us  to  keep  the  spar  directly 
under  the  sun  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night. 
Consequently  our  celebration  was  proceeding 
merrily. 

While  in  this  happy  and  isolated  condition  let 
me  say  a  few  words  of  our  ship's  company.  Having 
already  mentioned  the  Captain  I  will  dispose  of  him 
first.  Captain  Ezra  Triplett  was  a  hard-bitten 
mariner.  In  fact,  he  was,  I  think,  the  hardest- 
bitten  mariner  I  have  ever  seen.  He  had  been 
bitten,  according  to  his  own  tell,  rnan-and-boy,  for 
fifty-two  years,  by  every  sort  of  insect,  rodent  and 
crustacean  hi  existence.  He  had  had  smallpox 
and  three  touches  of  scurvy,  each  of  these  blights 
leaving  its  autograph.  He  had  lost  one  eye  in  the 
Australian  bush  where,  naturally,  it  was  impos- 


CAPTAIN  EZRA  TRIPLETT 

The  annals  of  maritime  history  will  never  be  complete  until  the  name  of 
Captain  Ezra  Triplett  of  New  Bedford,  Massachusetts,  receives  the  recogni 
tion  which  is  justly  its.  For  more  than  ten  generations  the  forebears  of  this 
hard-bitten  mariner  have  followed  the  sea  in  its  various  ramifications. 
The  first  Triplett  was  one  of  the  companions  of  Goswold  who,  in  1609, 
wintered  on  Cuttyhunk  Island  in  Buzzard's  Bay.  From  then  on  the  mem 
bers  of  this  hardy  New  England  family  have  earned  positions  of  trust  and 
honor.  By  courage  and  perseverance  the  subject  of  this  portrait  has  worked 
himself  up  from  cabin  boy  on  the  sound  steamer  Puritan  (wrecked  on 
Bartlett's  Reef,  1898)  to  his  present  position  of  commander  of  the  Kawa. 
Of  his  important  part  in  connection  with  the  historic  cruise  described  in 
these  pages,  the  Kawas  owner,  Dr.  Traprock,  has  no  hesitancy  in  saying, 
"Frankly,  without  Triplett  the  thing  never  could  have  been  done."  The 
accompanying  photograph  was  taken  just  after  the  captain  had  been  hauled 
out  of  the  surf  in  Papeete.  It  will  be  remarked  that  he  still  maintains 
an  indomitable  front  and  holds  his  trusty  Colt  in  readiness  for  immediate 
action. 


Captain  Ezra  Triplett 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA        7 

sible  to  find  it.  This  had  been  replaced  by  a  blue 
marble  of  the  size  known,  technically,  as  an 
eighteen-er,  giving  him  an  alert  appearance  which 
had  first  attracted  me.  By  nature  taciturn,  he  was 
always  willing  to  sit  up  all  night  as  long  as  the 
gin  was  handy,  an  excellent  trait  in  a  navigator. 
About  his  neck  he  wore  a  felt  bag  containing  ten 
or  a  dozen  assorted  marbles  with  which  he  fur 
nished  his  vacant  socket  according  to  his  fancy,  and 
the  effect  of  his  frequent  changes  was  both  unusual 
and  diverting. 

But  sail!  Lord  bless  you,  how  Triplett  could 
sail!  It  was  wizardry,  sheer  wizardry;  "devil- 
work,"  the  natives  used  to  call  it.  Triplett,  blind 
folded,  could  find  the  inlet  to  a  hermetically  sealed 
atoll.  When  there  wasn't  any  inlet  he  would  wait 
for  a  seventh  wave — which  is  always  extra  large — 
and  take  her  over  on  the  crest,  disregarding  the 
ragged  coral  below.  The  Kawa  was  a  tight  little 
craft,  built  for  rough  work.  She  stood  up  nobly 
under  the  punishment  her  skipper  gave  her. 

Triplett's  assistant  was  an  individual  named 
William  Henry  Thomas,  a  retired  Connecticut 
fanner  who  had  chosen  to  end  his  days  at  sea. 
This,  it  should  be  remarked,  is  the  reverse  of  the 
usual  order.  The  back-lots  of  Connecticut  are 


8        THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

peopled  by  retired  sea-captains  who  have  gone  back 
to  the  land,  which  accounts  in  large  measure  for 
the  condition  of  agriculture  in  these  communities. 
William  Henry  Thomas  had  appeared  as  Triplett's 
selection.  Once  aboard  ship  his  land  habits  stood 
him  in  good  stead  in  his  variousvduties  as  cook, 
foremost-hand,  butler  and  valet,  for  it  must  not 
be  supposed  that  the  Kawa,  tight  though  she  might 
be,  was  without  a  jaunty  style  of  her  own. 

Our  first-class  cabin  passengers  were  three, 
Reginald  K.  Whinney,  scientific  man,  world  wan 
derer,  data-demon  and  a  devil  when  roused; 
Herman  Swank,  bohemian,  artist,  and  vagabond, 
forever  in  search  of  new  sensations,  and  myself, 
Walter  E.  Traprock,  of  Derby,  Connecticut,  editor, 
war  correspondent,  and  author,  jack-of -all -trades, 
mostly  literary  and  none  lucrative. 

Our  object?     What,  indeed,  but  life  itself! 

I  had  known  my  companions  for  years.     We 
had  been  class-mates  at  New  Haven  when  our 
fathers  were  working  our  way  through  college. 
How  far  away  it  all  seemed  on  that  torrid  Fourth 
of  July  as  we  sat  on   the  Kawas  deck  singing 
"Oralee",  to  which  we  had  taught  Triplett  the  bass. 
"Like  a  blackbird  in  the  spring, 
Chanting  Ora-lee.     .     .     ." 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA        9 

"Very  un-sanitary,"  said  Whinney,  "a  black 
bird  ...  in  the  spring  .  .  .  very  un-sani 
tary." 

We  laughed  feebly. 

Suddenly,  as  they  do  in  the  tropics,  an  extraor 
dinary  thing  happened.  A  simoon,  a  monsoon 
and  a  typhoon  met,  head  on,  at  the  exact  corner  of 
the  equator  and  the  180th  meridian.  We  hadn't 
noticed  one  of  them, — they  had  given  us  no  warn 
ing  or  signal  of  any  kind.  Before  we  knew  it  they 
were  upon  us! 

I  have  been  in  any  one  of  the  three  separately 
many  a  time.  In  '95  off  the  Blue  Canary  Islands 
I  was  caught  in  an  octoroon,  one  of  those  eight- 
sided  storms,  that  spun  our  ship  around  like  a  top, 
and  killed  all  the  canaries  for  miles  about — the 
sea  was  strewn  with  their  bodies.  But  this! 

"Below,"  bellowed  Captain  Triplett,  and  we 
made  a  dive  for  the  hatch.  William  Henry 
Thomas  was  the  last  in,  having  been  in  the  bow 
setting  off  a  pinwheel,  when  the  blow  hit  us.  We 
dragged  him  in.  My  last  memory  is  of  Triplett 
driving  a  nail  back  of  the  hatch-cover  to  keep  it 
from  sliding. 

How  long  we  were  whirled  in  that  devil's  grip  of 
the  elements  I  cannot  say.  It  may  have  been  a 


A  BEWILDERED  BOTANIST 

Here,  against  the  background  of  a  closely  woven  hedge  of  southern 
hornbeam  (Carpinus  Tropicalis),  we  see  that  eminent  scientist.  Reginald 
Whinney,  in  the  act  of  discovering,  for  the  first  time  in  any  country,  a 
magnificent  specimen  of  wild  modesty  (Tiarella  nudd),  which  grows  in  great 
profusion  throughout  the  Filbert  Islands.  This  tiny  floweret  is  distantly 
related,  by  marriage,  to  the  European  sensitive  plant  (Plantus  pudica)  but 
is  infinitely  more  sensitive  and  reticent.  An  illustration  of  this  amazing 
quality  is  found  in  the  fact  that  its  snowy  blossoms  blush  a  deep  crimson  under 
the  gaze  of  the  human  eye.  At  the  touch  of  the  human  hand  the  flowers 
turn  inside-out  and  shrink  to  minute  proportions.  Dr.  Whinney  attempted 
in  vain  to  transplant  specimens  of  this  fragile  creation  to  our  old-world 
botanical  gardens  but  found  the  conditions  of  modern  plant  life  an  in 
superable  barrier.  The  seeds  of  wild  modesty  absolutely  refuse  to  germinate 
in  either  Europe  or  America. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      11 

day — it  may  have  been  a  week.  We  were  all  below, 
battened  down  ....  tight.  At  times  we  lost 
consciousness — at  times  we  were  sick — at  times, 
both.  I  remember  standing  on  Triplett's  face 
and  peering  out  through  a  salt-glazed  port-hole  at 
a  world  of  waterspouts,  as  thick  as  forest  trees, 
dancing,  melting,  crashing  upon  us.  I  sank  back. 

This  was  the  end  .  .  . 

»        •        * 

Calm.  Peace  and  sun!  The  beneficence  of  a 
warm,  golden  finger  that  reached  gently  through 
the  port-hole  and  rested  on  my  eye.  What  had 
happened?  Oh — yes.  "Like  a  blackbird  in  the 
spring."  Slowly  I  fought  my  way  back  to  con 
sciousness.  Triplett  was  sitting  in  a  corner  still 
clutching  the  hammer.  On  the  floor  lay  WTiinney 
and  William  Henry  Thomas,  their  twisted  legs 
horribly  suggestive  of  death. 

"Air,"  I  gasped. 

Triplett  feebly  wrenched  out  the  nail  and  we 
managed  to  pull  the  hatch  far  enough  back  to 
squeeze  through.  Enlivened  by  the  fresh  air  the 
others  crawled  slowly  after,  except  poor  William 
Henry  Thomas  who  still  lay  inert. 

"He's  all  right,"  said  WTiinney.  "The  gin  bottle 
broke  and  dripped  into  his  mouth.  He'll  come  to 


12      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

presently."  He  added  in  an  undertone,  "The 
wages  of  gin  .  .  ."  Whinney  was  always  quoting. 

Minus  our  factotum  we  stood  and  silently  sur 
veyed  what  once  had  been  the  Kawa.  The 
leathern  features  of  Captain  Triplett  twisted  into 
a  grin.  "Bald  's  a  badger!"  he  murmured. 

Everything  had  gone  by  the  board.  Mast, 
jigger,  bow-sprit  and  running  gear.  Not  a  trace 
of  block  or  tackle  rested  on  the  surrounding  sea. 
We  were  clean-shaven.  Of  the  chart,  which  had 
hung  in  a  frame  near  the  binnacle,  not  a  line  re 
mained.  All  our  navigating  instruments,  quad 
rant,  sextant,  and  hydrant,  with  which  we  had 
amused  ourselves  making  foolish  observations 
during  that  morning  of  the  glorious  Fourth,  our 
chronometer  and  speedometer, — all  had  absolutely 
disappeared. 

"And  there  we  are!"  said  Swank. 

Triplett  coughed  apologetically  and  pulled  his 
forelock. 

"If  you  don't  mind,  sir,  night'll  be  comin'  on 
soon  and  I  think  we'd  better  make  sail." 

"Make  sail?"  I  murmured  blankly.     "How?" 

"The  bedding,  sir,"  said  Triplett. 

"Of  course!"  I  cried.  "All  hands  abaft  to  make 
sail." 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA       13 

How  we  knotted  our  sheets  and  blankets  to 
gether  to  fashion  a  rough  main-sail  would  be  a 
tedious  recital,  for  it  was  slow  work.  Our  com 
bined  efforts  made,  I  should  say,  about  eight  knots 
an  hour  but  half  of  them  pulled  out  at  the  least 
provocation.  We  persevered,  however,  and  finally 
completed  our  task.  Nor  were  we  an  instant  too 
soon,  for  just  as  we  had  succeeded  in  getting  the 
oars  to  stand  upright  and  were  anxiously  watching 
our  well-worn  army  blankets  belly  out  with  the 
steady  trade  wind,  the  sun,  which  for  the  last 
hour  had  hung  above  the  horizon,  suddenly  fell 
into  the  sea  and  night  was  upon  us. 

"There's  that,"  said  Whinney  quietly. 

Thus  we  slid  through  the  velvet  night  with  the 
Double  Cross  hanging  low,  sou'west  by  south. 

It  must  have  been  about  an  hour  before  dawn 
that  a  shiver  of  expectancy  thrilled  us  unani 
mously. 

"Did  you  hear  that,  sir?"  said  Captain  Triplett 
in  a  low  tone. 

"No  .  .  .  what  was  it?" 

"A  sea-robin  .  .  .  we  must  be  near  land  .  .  . 
there  it  is  again." 

I  heard  it  that  time  .  .  .  the  faint,  sweet  note 
of  the  male  sea-robin. 


14      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

Shortly  afterward  we  heard  the  mewing  of  a 
sea-puss,  evidently  chasing  the  robin. 

"Sure  enough,  sir,"  said  Triplett.  "It'll  be 
land."  Somehow  we  felt  sure  of  it. 

In  calm  elation  and  tired  expectancy  we  strained 
our  eyes  through  the  slow  crescendo  of  the  day's 
birth.  Suddenly,  the  sun  leaped  over  the  horizon 
and  the  long  crimson  rays  flashed  forward  to  where, 
dead  ahead,  we  could  see  a  faint  swelling  on  the 
skyline. 

"Land-ho!"  we  cried  in  voices  of  strangled  joy. 

"Boys,"  said  Captain  Triplett,  apologetically 
.  .  .  "we  ain't  got  no  yard-atm,  but  the  sun's  up 
and  there's  land  dead  ahead,  and  I  reckon  ..." 

He  paused.  Through  the  hatchway  came 
William  Henry  Thomas  bearing  a  tray  with  four 
lily  cups. 

"Fair  as  a  lily  .  .  ."  said  Whinney  (I  knew  he 
would). 

Two  minutes  later  we  had  fallen  into  heavy 
slumber  while  the  Kawa  steered  by  the  faithful 
Triplett,  moved  steadily  toward  our  unknown 
haven. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  real  discovery.  Polynesia  analyzed.  The  astound 
ing  nature  of  the  Filberts.  Their  curious  sound, 
and  its  reason.  We  make  a  landing.  Our  first 
glimpse  of  the  natives.  The  value  of  vaudeville. 


CHAPTER  II 

THERE  is  nothing  better,  after  a  hurricane,  than 
six  hours'  sleep.  It  was  high  noon  when  we  were 
awakened  by  William  Henry  Thomas  and  the  odor 
of  coffee,  which  drew  us  to  the  quarter-deck. 
There,  for  the  first  time,  we  were  able  to  make  an 
accurate  survey  of  our  surroundings  and  realize 
the  magnitude  and  importance  of  what  had  be 
fallen  us.  While  we  slept  Captain  Triplett  had 
warped  the  denuded  Kawa  through  a  labyrinth 
of  coral  and  we  now  lay  peacefully  at  anchor  with 
the  island  lying  close  in-board. 

Its  appearance,  to  put  it  mildly,  was  astonishing. 
Let  me  remind  the  reader  that  for  the  previous 
four  months  we  had  been  prowling  through  the 
Southern  Pacific  meeting  everywhere  with  dis 
appointment  and  disillusionment.  We  had  in 
spected  every  island  in  every  group  noted  on  every 
map  from  Mercator  to  Rand-McNally  without 

17 


18      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

finding  any  variation  in  type  from,  "A,"  the  low 
lying  coral-atoll  of  the  well-known  broken  dough 
nut  formation,  to,  "B,"  the  high-browed,  mansard 
design  popularized  by  F.  O'Brien.*  In  a  few  of 
the  outlying  suburbs  of  Melanesia  and  the  lower 
half  of  Amnesia,  we  had  found  a  few  designs  which 
showed  sketchy  promise  of  originality:  coral  reefs 
in  quaint  forms  had  been  begun,  outlining  a 
scheme  of  decoration  in  contrast  with  the  austere 
mountains  and  valleys.  But  everywhere  these 
had  been  abandoned.  Either  the  appropriation 
had  given  out,  or  the  polyps  had  gotten  to  squab 
bling  among  themselves  and  left  their  work  to  be 
slowly  worn  away  by  the  erosive  action  of  sea  and 
shipwrecked  bottoms.!  Add  to  the  geographic 
sameness  the  universal  blight  of  white  civilization 
with  its  picture  post-cards,  professional  hula  and 
ooh-la  dancers,  souvenir  and  gift  shops,  automat 
restaurants,  movie-palaces,  tourists,  artists  and 
explorers,  and  you  have  some  idea  of  the  boredom 
which  had  settled  down  over  the  Kawa  and  her 
inmates. 

Only  a  few  days  before  ^Whinney,  usually  so 

*  This  is  the  type  "E",  of  Melville's  overrated  classification— Ed. 

f  In  Micronesia  it  was  even  worse,  the  islands  offering  a  dead-level  of 
mediocrity  which  I  have  never  seen  equalled  except  in  the  workingmen's 
cottages  of  Ampere,  New  Jersey,  the  home  of  the  General  Electric  Company. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA       19 

philosophical,  had  burst  out  petulantly  with: 
"To  hell  with  these  islands.  Give  me  a  good 
mirage,  any  time."  Swank  and  I  had  heartily 
agreed  with  him,  and  it  was  in  that  despondent 
spirit  that  we  had  begun  our  Fourth  of  July  cele 
bration. 

As  we  sat  cozily  on  deck,  sipping  our  coffee,  it 
slowly  dawned  on  us  that  we  had  made  the  amaz 
ing  discovery  of  an  absolutely  new  type  of  island! — 
something  so  evidently  virgin  and  unvisited  that 
we  could  only  gaze  in  awe-struck  silence. 

"Do  you  know,"  whispered  Swank,  "I  think 
this  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  seen  a  virgin" — he 
choked  for  an  instant  on  a  crumb — "island." 

We  could  well  believe  it. 

The  islands  lay  before  us  in  echelon  formation. 
The  one  in  our  immediate  foreground  was  typical 
of  the  others.  Its  ground-floor  plan  was  that  of  a 
circle  of  beach  and  palm  enclosing  an  inner  sea 
from  the  center  of  which  rose  an  elaborate  moun 
tain  to  a  sheer  height  of  two  thousand,  perhaps 
ten  thousand,  feet.  The  general  effect  was  that  of 
a  pastry  masterpiece  on  a  gigantic  scale.*  We 
could  only  stare  in  open-mouthed  amazement, 

*  Oddly  enough  the  scene  struck  me  as  strangely  familiar  but  it  was  not 
until  weeks  afterward  that  I  recalled  its  prototype  in  the  memory  of  a  decora- 


20      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

thrilled  with  the  thought  that  we  were  actually 
discoverers.  A  gorgeous  feature  of  our  find,  in 
addition  to  its  satisfactory  shape,  was  its  color. 
Sand  and  vegetation  were  of  the  conventional  hues, 
but  where  the  flanks  of  the  rock  rose  from  the  en 
closed  pool  we  observed  that  they  were  of  the  pure 
elementary  colors,  red,  blue  and  yellow,  fresh  and 
untarnished  as  in  the  latest  masterpiece  from  the 
brush  of  the  Master  of  All  Painters.  Here  before 
our  eyes  was  an  unspoiled  sample  of  what  the 
world  must  have  looked  like  on  varnishing  day. 

Swank,  who  is  ultra-modern  in  his  tendencies, 
was  in  ecstasies  over  the  naive  simplicity  of  the 
color  scheme.  "Look  at  that  red!"  he  shouted. 
"Look  at  that  blue!!  Look  at  that  yaller!!!"  He 
dove  below  and  I  heard  rattling  of  tubes  and 
brushes  that  told  me  he  was  about  to  commit  land 
scape.  This  time  I  knew  he  couldn't  possibly 
make  the  colors  too  violent. 

Fringing  the  exquisitely  tinted  coral  strand  were 
outlying  reefs,  alternately  concave  and  convex, 
which  gave  the  shore  edge  a  scalloped,  almost 
rococo  finish,  which  I  have  heard  decorators  call 
the  Chinese-Chippendale  "effect."  Borne  to  our 

tion  worn  by  General  Grosdenovitch,  Minister  very-extraordinary  to  Amer 
ica  from  Montenegro  just  before  the  little  mountain  kingdom  blew  up  with 
a  faint  pop  and  became  absorbed  by  Jugo-Slovakia. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      21 

nostrils  by  an  occasional  reflex  of  the  zooming 
trades  came,  ever  and  anon,  entrancing  whiffs  of 
a  brand  new  odor. 

It  is  always  embarrassing  to  attempt  to  describe 
a  new  smell,  for,  such  is  our  inexperience  in  the 
nasal  field,  that  a  new  smell  must  invariably  be 
described  in  terms  of  other  smells,  and  by  reason  of  a 
curious,  inherited  prudery  this  province  has  been 
left  severely  alone  by  English  writers.  I  know  of 
but  one  man,  M.  Sentant,  the  governor  of  Bat- 
tambang,  Cambodia,  who  frankly  makes  a  specialty 
of  odors.* 

"J'aime  les  odeurs!"  he  said  to  me  one  day  as 
we  sat  sipping  a  siem-bok  on  the  piazza  of  the 
residency. 

"Mais  il  y  en  a  des  mauvaises,"  I  deprecated. 

"Meme  les  mauvaises,"  he  insisted,  "Oui,  sur- 
tout  les  mauvaises!" 

But  Sentant  is  unique.  I  can  only  say  that  as  I 
sat  sniffing  on  the  deck  of  the  Kawa  there  was 
about  us  a  soupcon  of  the  je-ne-sais-quoi  tropicale, 
half  nostalgic,  half  diablerie.  It  was  .  .  .  but 
what's  the  use?  You  will  have  to  go  out  there 
some  time  and  smell  it  for  yourself. 

*See  Journal  des  Debats,  Avril,  '09,    "Le  nez  triomphant"  de  Lucien 
Sentant. 


THE  W.  E.  TRAPROCK  EXPEDITION 

It  is  doubtful  if  a  camera's  eye  ever  recorded  the  presence  of  a  more  re 
markable  group  than  that  presented  on  the  opposite  page.  Here  we  see 
the  ship's  company  of  the  yawl  Kawa,  assembled  under  the  shade  of  the 
broad  panjandrus  leaves  which  fringe  the  Filbert  Islands.  They  are,  reading 
from  left  to  right,  William  Henry  Thomas,  the  crew;  Herman  Swank, 
Walter  E.  Traprock,  Reginald  Whinney.  At  their  feet  lies  Kippiputuona 
(Daughter  of  Pearl  and  Coral).  The  black  and  white  of  photography  can 
give  no  idea  of  the  magnificent  tropical  coloring,  nor  of  the  exquisite  sounds 
and  odors  which  permeate  every  inch  of  the  island  paradise.  At  the  moment 
of  taking  this  picture,  which  was  obligingly  snapped  by  Captain  Triplett, 
the  entire  party  was  listening  to  the  thrilling  cry  of  the  fatu-liva  bird. 
Captain  Triplett  had  just  requested  the  group  to  "listen  to  the  little  birdie" 
when  the  distant  wood-notes  were  heard,  the  coincidence  falling  in  most 
happily  with  the  photographer's  attempts  to  secure  the  absolute  attention 
of  his  subjects. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      23 

I  have  mentioned  the  contour,  color  and  fra 
grance  of  our  island.  I  now  come  to  the  strangest 
feature  of  all.  I  refer  to  its  sound.  I  had  for 
some  time  noticed  a  queer,  dripping  noise  which  I 
had  foreborne  to  mention  fearing  it  might  be  in 
side  my  own  head — a  devilish  legacy  of  our  recent 
buffeting.  You  can  imagine  my  relief  when 
Whinney  asked  apologetically,  "Do  you  fellows 
hear  anything?" 

"I  do!"  was  my  rejoinder,  seconded  by  Swank 
who  had  come  up  for  air. 

We  all  listented  intently. 

Though  the  sky  was  cloudless,  a  distinct  patter 
ing  sound  as  of  a  light  rain  reached  us. 

"Nuts  .  .  ."  said  Captain  Triplett  suddenly, 
spitting  on  the  nose  of  a  fish  that  had  made  a  face 
at  him.  A  glance  through  our  mercifully  pre 
served  field-glasses  corroborated  the  Captain's 
vision. 

"For  the  love  of  Pete!"  I  gasped.  "Take  a 
squint  at  those  trees." 

They  were  literally  crawling  with  nuts  and 
tropical  fruits  of  every  description.  In  the  shadow 
of  the  broad  panjandrus  leaves  we  could  see  whole 
loaves  of  breadfruits  falling  unassisted  to  the 
ground  while  between  the  heavier  thuds  of  cocoa- 


24      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

nuts  and  grapefruit  we  heard  the  incessant  patter 
of  light  showers  of  thousands  of  assorted  nutlets, 
singing  the  everlasting  burden  and  refrain  of  these 
audible  isles.  It  was  this  predominant  feature — 
though  I  anticipate  our  actual  decision — which 
ultimately  settled  our  choice  of  a  name  for  the 
new  archipelago, — the  Filbert  Islands,  now  famous 
wherever  the  names  of  Whinney,  Swank  and  Trap- 
rock  are  known. 

It  was  now  about  half-past  two  bells  and  an 
excellent  time  to  make  a  landing,  preparations  for 
which  were  forthwith  set  in  motion.  Now,  if  ever, 
we  had  occasion  to  bless  the  tightness  of  the  Kawa, 
for  in  the  confusion  below,  somewhat  ameliorated 
by  the  labors  of  William  Henry  Thomas,  we  found 
most  of  our  duffle  in  good  order,  an  occasional  steth 
oscope  broken  or  a  cork  loose,  but  nothing  to  amount 
to  much.  Our  rifles,  side-arms,  cartridges,  camera 
and  my  bundles  of  rejected  manuscript  were  as 
dry  as  ever.  I  was  thankful  as  I  had  counted  on 
writing  on  the  other  side  of  them.  A  tube  of 
vermilion  had  run  amuck  among  Swank's  under 
clothes  but,  in  the  main,  we  were  intact. 

After  some  delay  in  getting  our  folding-dory 
stretched  on  its  frame,  due  to  Whinney's  conten 
tion  that  the  bow  and  stern  sections  belonged  on 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      25 

the  same  end,  we  finally  shoved  off,  leaving  William 
Henry  Thomas  to  answer  the  door  in  case  of 
callers. 

In  the  brief  interval  of  our  passage,  I  could  not 
help  noticing  the  remarkable  submarine  flora  over 
which  we  passed.  The  water,  perfectly  clear  to  a 
depth  of  four-hundred  and  eighty-two  feet,  showed 
a  remarkable  picture  of  aquatic  forestry.  Under 
our  keel  spread  limeaceous  trees  of  myriad  hues 
in  whose  branches  perched  variegated  fish  nibbling 
the  coral  buds  or  thoughtfully  scratching  their 
backs  on  the  roseate  bark.  Pearls  the  size  of 
onions  rolled  aimlessly  on  ocean's  floor.  But  of 
these  later;  for  the  nonce  our  tale  leads  landward. 

As  our  canvas  scraped  the  shingle  we  leaped  out, 
tossing  the  dory  lightly  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
waves,  and  fell  into  the  agreed-upon  formation. 
Triplett  in  the  van,  then  Whinney,  Swank  and 
myself,  in  the  order  named.  Beyond  the  beach 
was  a  luxuriant  growth  of  haro*  Into  this  we 
proceeded  gingerly,  intrepid  and  alert,  but  ready  to 
bolt  at  the  slightest  alarm. 

The  nut  noises  became  constantly  more  ominous 
and  menacing,  but  still  we  saw  no  sign  of  human 

*  Similar  to  the  photographer's  grass;  is  used  in  the  foreground  of  early 
Sarony  full  lengths.  I  have  seen  a  similar  form  of  vegetation  just  off 
the  fairway  of  the  third  hole  at  Garden  City. 


26      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

life.  Near  the  edge  of  the  forest  we  came  to  a  halt. 
Plainly  it  would  be  unwise  to  venture  within  range 
of  the  arboreal  hailstones  without  protection,  for 
though  our  pith-helmets  were  of  the  best  quality 
they  were,  after  all,  but  pith,  and  a  cocoanut  is  a 
cocoanut,  the  world  over.  While  we  were  debat 
ing  this  point  and  seeking  a  possible  way  into  the 
jungle  which  was  not  overarched  by  trees  I  heard 
a  low  bird-call,  as  I  supposed,  the  even-song  of  the 
crossbilled  cuttywink.  On  the  instant  a  towering 
circle  of  dark  forms  sprang  from  the  haro  and  at  a 
glance  I  saw  that  we  were  completely  surrounded 
by  gigantic  Filbertines! 

Darting  a  look  over  my  shoulder  I  noted  to  my 
dismay  an  enormous  land-crab  towing  our  dory 
seaward.  It  was  a  harrowing  moment.  As  agreed 
upon,  we  waited  for  Triplett  to  take  the  initiative 
and  in  the  interim  I  took  a  hasty  inventory  of 
our  reception  committee.  The  general  impression 
was  that  of  great  beauty  and  physique  entirely 
unadorned  except  for  a  narrow,  beaded  water-line 
and  pendent  apron  (rigolo  in  the  Filbertine  lan 
guage)  consisting  of  a  seven-year-old  clam  shell 
decorated  with  brightly  colored  papoo-reeds.  The 
men's  faces  were  calm,  almost  benign,  and  as  far  as 
I  could  see  unarmed  except  for  long,  sharply  pointed 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      27 

bundles  of  leaves  which  they  carried  under  their 
arms.  Their  tattooing  was  the  finest  I  have  ever 
seen. 

At  this  moment,  however,  my  observations  were 
concluded  by  Triplett's  suddenly  wheeling  and 
saying  sharply,  "Trap rock!  .  .  .  target  practice!" 

This  was  a  stunt  we  had  often  performed  for  the 
amusement  and  mystification  of  kindly  cannibals 
in  the  Solomons.  I  had  seen  it  in  vaudeville  and 
taught  it  to  Triplett.  As  was  my  custom,  I  had 
in  the  pocket  of  my  singlet  a  number  of  ship 
biscuit.  Plucking  out  one  of  these  I  placed  it  on 
my  forehead  and  nose,  holding  it  in  place  with  the 
index  finger.  Triplett  leveled  his  Colt  a  good  yard 
above  my  head  and  fired,  I  on  the  instant  pressing 
the  biscuit  so  that  it  fell  in  pieces  to  the  ground. 

The  effect  on  the  Filbertines  was  marvelous. 

They  were  too  simple  to  be  afraid.  Their  one 
emotion  was  wonder.  Then  Swank,  grinning 
broadly,  uttered  the  one  word,  "Cinch!" 

To  a  nation  which  had  never  heard  a  word  end 
ing  in  a  consonant,  this  was  apparently  intensely 
humorous.  They  burst  into  loud  guffaws,  sup 
plemented  with  resounding  slaps  of  their  cupped 
hands  on  their  stomachs,  at  the  same  time  raising 
an  imitative  cry  of  "Sink-ka!  Sink-ka!" 


28       THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

This  was  our  welcome  to  the  Filbert  Islands, 
and  also  the  beginning  of  the  formation  of  that  new 
tongue,  Filbertese  or  nut-talk,  which  in  the  ensuing 
months  was  to  mean  so  much  to  our  small  but 
absolutely  intrepid  band. 


CHAPTER  HI 

Our  handsome  hosts.  En  route  to  the  interior. 
Native  flora  and  fauna.  We  arrive  at  the  capital . 
A  lecture  on  Filbertine  architecture.  A  strange 
taboo.  The  serenade. 


CHAPTER  III 

WITH  the  first  burst  of  laughter  it  seemed  that 
all  embarrassment  on  the  part  of  the  natives  had 
been  dissipated.  Those  nearest  us  insisted  on 
patting  our  stomachs  gently,  at  the  same  time 
uttering  a  soft,  crooning  "soo-soo,"*  which  it 
was  obviously  the  proper  thing  to  return,  which  we 
did  to  the  delight  of  the  bronze  warriors  about  us. 

After  a  few  moments  of  this  friendly  massage, 
the  most  ornamental  of  the  savages,  whom  I 
judged  to  be  the  chief,  uttered  dissyllabic  command 
of  "Oo-a,"  and  slapped  his  right  thigh  smartly 
with  his  left  hand,  a  feat  more  easily  described  than 
accomplished.  Coincident  with  this  signal  came 
a  cheerful  riffling  sound  as  the  Filbertines  broke 
out  their  large  umbrellas  of  panjandrus  leaves 
which  we  had  first  mistaken  for  weapons.  This 
implement,  (known  technically  as  a  naa-naa  or 

*  This  same  sound  is  used  by  the  natives  of  Sugar  Hill,  New  Hampshire, 
when  calming  their  horses. 

31 


32      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

taa-taa,  depending  on  whether  it  was  open  or 
closed),  was  in  reality  not  only  a  useful  and  neces 
sary  protection  against  the  continuous  nut-showers 
but  also  a  weapon  of  both  of -and  de-fensive  war 
fare.* 

We  stood  thus,  in  open  formation,  among  the 
luxurious  haro  until  in  response  to  another  signal 
from  the  chief,  a  resounding  slap  on  the  left  shank, 
they  escorted  us  ceremoniously  along  a  winding 
path  which  led  toward  the  interior  of  the  island. 
It  was  for  all  the  world  as  if  we  were  being  taken 
out  to  dinner,  a  thought  which  suggested  for  an 
instant  the  reflection  that  we  might  turn  out  to  be 
not  guests  but  courses  at  the  banquet,  in  which  case 
I  promised  myself  I  should  be  a  piece-de-resistance 
of  the  most  violent  character. 

But  these  solemn  thoughts  were  not  proof 
against  the  gaiety  of  our  surroundings,  the  soft 
patter  of  the  constantly  dropping  nuts  bounding 
from  the  protective  taa-taas,  and  the  squawks 
and  screeches  of  countless  cuttywinks  and  fatu- 
liva  birds,  those  queens  of  the  tropics  whose 
gorgeous  plumage  swept  across  our  path. 

*  This  primitive  people  we  soon  found  to  be  profoundly  pacifistic,  a  natural 
condition  in  a  race  who,  since  the  dawn  of  time,  had  known  no  influence 
other  than  that  of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Warfare  with  its  cruel  attributes  had 
never  penetrated  their  isolation.  With  nations  as  with  people,  it  takes  two 
to  make  a  quarrel.  Here  was  but  one. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      33 

For  Whinney  and  Swank  as  well  as  myself  the 
promenade  was  a  memorable  one,  the  former 
feasting  his  cool  eyes  on  the  hundreds  of  new 
scientific  items  which  he  was  later  to  classify,  the 
bulbons  oo-pa,  a  sort  of  vegetable  cream-puff,  the 
succulent  tuki-taki,  pale-green  with  red  dots,  a 
natural  cross  between  the  banana  and  the  cocoanut, 
having  the  taste  of  neither,  and  the  numerous 
crawling  things,  the  whistling-ants  and  shy,  lamp- 
eyed  lily-bugs  (anchoridae  flamens)  who  flashed 
their  signals  as  we  passed. 

Swank  revelled  in  the  rainbow  colors  about  us, 
the  flaming  nabiscus  blossoms  and  the  unearthly 
saffron  of  the  alova  blooms,  one  inhale  of  which, 
we  were  to  learn,  contained  the  kick  of  three  old- 
fashioned  mint-juleps.  Only  Triplett's  hard-boiled 
countenance  reflected  no  interest  whatever  in  his 
surroundings. 

It  was  doubtless  this  unintelligent  dignity  on 
our  Captain's  part,  coupled  with  what  was  left 
of  his  brass  buttons  and  visor  cap  on  which  the 
legend  "Kawa"  still  glimmered  faintly,  which 
prompted  the  aborigines  to  select  him  as  our  chief, 
an  error  which  I  at  first  thought  of  correcting  by 
some  sort  of  dramatic  tableau  such  as  having 
Triplett  lie  down  and  letting  me  place  my  foot  on 


BABAI  AND  HER  TAA-TAA 

In  this  picture  the  joyous  island  queen  Babai-Alova-Babai  is  seen  carrying 
her  taa-taa,  the  curious  implement  which  serves  so  many  purposes  in  the 
Filbert  Group.  It  is  in  turn  a  protection  against  the  sun,  the  rain  and  the 
constant  showers  of  falling  nuts,  and  also,  when  occasion  demands,  a  most 
effective  weapon  of  defensive  warfare.  The  taa-taa  is  made  of  closely  laced 
panjandrus  leaves  on  a  frame  of  the  tough  eva-eva.  When  closed,  which  is 
seldom,  it  is  known  as  a  naa-naa.  In  addition  to  its  other  uses  it  is  most 
evidently  a  charming  background  for  a  splendid  example  of  Filbertine 
youth  and  beauty. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      35 

his  Adam's  apple,  of  which  he  had  a  splendid 
specimen.  On  second  thought,  however,  I  decided 
that  it  would  be  more  modest  to  allow  him  any 
honors  he  might  receive  together  with  the  re 
sponsibilities  attendant  upon  his  position.  It  is 
the  invariable  habit  of  South  Sea  Islanders,  in  the 
event  of  trouble,  to  capture  and  hold  as  hostages  the 
chief  men  of  a  tribe.  Their  heads,  with  or  without 
the  original  bodies,  seem  to  have  a  peculiar  value. 

Soon  the  trail  widened,  and  we  were  called  upon 
to  hurdle  several  low  barriers  of  papoo-reeds, 
designed  to  confine  the  activities  of  the  countless 
Alice-blue  wart-hogs  which  whined  plaintively 
about  our  feet.  At  a  majestic  gesture  from  the 
chief  the  taa-taas  were  furled  (becoming  naa-naas), 
and  we  halted  in  a  bright  clearing  about  sixty  feet 
in  diameter,  plainly  the  public  square,  or,  to  be 
exact,  circle. 

My  first  impression  was  that  of  complete  isola 
tion  in  an  unbroken  forest.  Peer  as  I  would,  I 
could  discern  no  sign  of  human  habitation.  We 
had  arrived,  but  where?  My  question  was  soon 
answered.  By  most  gracious  gestures,  soft  sounds 
and  a  series  of  fluttering  finger  exercises  on  the 
abdominal  walls  we  were  led  to  one  side  of  the 
circle  where,  as  our  guides  pointed  upward,  white 


36      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

eyes  for  the  first  time  in  history  rested  on  a 
Filbertine  dwelling! 

The  houses  were  in  the  trees! 

Architecture  is  said  to  express  deeply  the  inner 
characteristics  of  a  people,  a  statement  I  am  glad 
to  corroborate.  But  never  had  it  struck  me  so 
forcibly  as  now.  Gazing  up  at  a  dim  picture  of 
informal  construction,  interlaced  and  blended  with 
the  trunks,  boughs  and  foliage  of  the  overarching 
palms  I  saw  at  a  glance  the  key-note  of  the  life  of 
this  simple  people — absence  of  labor. 

The  houses, — nests,  were  the  better  word — were 
formed  by  a  most  naive  adaptation  of  natural  sur 
roundings  to  natural  needs.  The  curving  fronds 
of  the  towering  coco-palms  and  panjandrus  had 
been  interlaced;  and  nature  did  the  rest,  the 
gigantic  leaves  interweaving,  blending,  over-lap 
ping,  meeting  in  a  passionate  and  successful  desire 
to  form  a  roof,  proof  alike  against  sun  and  rain. 
Some  ten  feet  below  this  and  an  equal  distance 
from  the  ground  the  tendrils  of  the  eva-eva 
vine  had  been  led  from  tree  to  tree,  the  sub 
ordinate  fibres  and  palpitating  feelers  quickly 
knitting  themselves  into  a  floor  with  all  the 
hygienic  properties  and  tensile  strength  of  linen- 
mesh. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      37 

Access  to  these  apartments  was  something  of  a 
puzzle  until,  to  instruct  us,  a  tall  Filbert,  who  was 
evidently  to  be  our  neighbor,  approached  a  near 
by  dwelling  and,  seizing  a  pendent  halyard  of 
eva-eva,  gently  but  firmly  pulled  down  the  floor 
to  a  convenient  level,  vaulted  into  the  hammock- 
like  depression  and  was  immediately  snapped  into 
privacy.  From  below  we  could  see  the  imprint 
of  his  form  rolling  toward  the  center  of  his  living- 
room  and  then  the  depressions  of  his  feet  as  he 
proceeded  to  lurch  about  his  dwelling. 

It  was  now  mid-afternoon;  we  were  hot,  tired, 
and,  though  we  did  not  know  it,  mildly  intoxicated 
by  the  inhalations  of  alova  which  we  had  ab 
sorbed  during  our  journey.  I  looked  forward 
eagerly  to  getting  up-stairs,  so  to  speak,  and  taking 
a  sound  nap.  One  thing  only  deterred  me;  I  was 
thirsty. 

On  the  edge  of  the  clearing  I  heard  the  tinkling 
of  a  brook.  Walking  to  its  edge,  I  knelt  and  dipped 
my  hot  wrists  in  the  cold  stream,  wetting  my 
hands,  face  and  matted  locks,  while  the  natives 
eyed  me  solemnly  but  with,  I  thought,  looks  of 
anxiety.  And  then  a  strange  thing  happened. 
As  I  took  off  my  duck's-back  fishing  hat,  filled  it 
to  the  brim  and  raised  it  to  my  lips,  a  cry  of  horror 


WALTER  E.  TRAPROCK,  F.  R.  S.  S.  E.  U. 

This  striking  likeness  of  Dr.  Traprock,  the  author  of  the  present  volume, 
admirably  expresses  the  intensity,  alertness  and  intrepidity  which  have 
carried  this  remarkable  personage  through  so  many  harrowing  experiences. 
A  certain  bold  defiance,  which  is  one  of  Dr.  Traprock's  characteristics,  has 
here  been  caught  to  the  life.  With  just  this  matchless  courage  we  know 
that  he  must  have  faced  death  a  thousand  times  even  though,  as  now,  he 
had  not  a  cartridge  in  his  belt.  That  Dr.  Traprock  knows  no  fear  is  evi 
denced  by  the  fact  that  he  has  not  only  explored  every  quarter  of  the  globe, 
but  that  he  has  also  written  a  number  of  books  of  travel,  plays,  musical 
comedies  and  one  cook-book.  The  background  of  this  picture  shows  the 
densely  matted  bush  of  the  Filbert  Islands  in  their  interior  portion,  a  jungle 
growth  which  might  well  baffle  any  but  the  most  skillful  threader  of  the 
trackless  wilds.  The  gun  carried  by  Dr.  Traprock  is  a  museum-piece, 
having  been  presented  to  the  author's  great-grandfather  by  Israel  Putnam 
immediately  after  the  Battle  of  Fort  Ticonderoga.  Thanks  to  constant 
upkeep  it  is  in  as  good  condition  as  ever.  This  is  also  true  of  Dr.  Traprock. 


Walter  E.  Traprock,  F.R.S.S.E.U. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      39 

burst  from  the  throats  of  those  swarthy  giants. 
The  chief  strode  forward  and  dashed  the  cap  from 
my  hand,  at  the  same  time  thundering  the  word 
"Bapoo!" 

In  an  instant  it  flashed  upon  me  that  this  was 
Filbertese  for  tapu  or  taboo,  that  strange,  sacred 
kibosh  which  is  laid  on  certain  acts,  objects  or 
localities  throughout  these  far-flung  islands.  Water 
it  appeared  was  for  drinking  purposes — bapoo. 
I  then  did  what  I  think  was  exactly  the  right  thing 
under  the  circumstances,  namely,  to  wring  out 
the  offending  head-covering  and  throw  it  as  far 
from  me  as  possible,  an  act  which  was  greeted 
with  a  hearty  burst  of  applause. 

It  was  not  necessary  for  me  to  indicate  further 
that  I  was  thirsty.  Two  henchmen  almost  im 
mediately  appeared  with  a  large  nut-shell  of  un 
familiar  appearance, — it  was  about  the  size  of  a 
half  watermelon  and  bright  red  on  the  outside, — 
full  of  a  pale  pink  liquid.  The  chief,  one  or  two 
of  the  leading  men,  and  the  rest  of  my  party  were 
similarly  equipped.  Raising  his  shell  the  chief 
and  nobles  said  simultaneously  "Wha-e-a"  and  we 
drank. 

Two  minutes  afterward  I  had  a  fault  sensation 
of  being  borne  away  by  the  trade  wind.  Swank 


40      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

was  beside  me  and  I  heard  him  murmur,  "I'm  glad 
I  don't  have  to  sleep  with  Triplett." 

The  rest  was  silence,  and  the  silence  was  rest. . . . 

We  awoke  many  hours  later.  It  was  moonlight 
and  we  were  lying  in  a  complicated  knot  in  the 
exact  center  of  our  domicile.  Unraveling  our 
selves  we  tested  our  heads  with  gentle  oscilla 
tions. 

Suddenly,  in  the  distance,  we  heard  a  sound  which 
sent  a  chill  thrill  running  up  and  down  our  spines, 
the  sound  of  singing,  a  faint  far-off  chorus  of  the 
loveliest  voices  that  ever  fell  on  mortal  ears.  The 
tone  had  that  marvelous  silver  clang  of  the  wood 
land  thrush  with  yet  a  deeper,  human  poignancy, 
a  note  of  passionate  longing  and  endearment,  shy 
but  assertive,  wild,  but  oh!  so  alluring.  We 
chinned  ourselves  expectantly  on  the  edge  of  our 
floor  and  waited,  panting. 

"A  serenade,"  whispered  Swank,  and  Whinney 
shush-ed  him  savagely. 

Through  the  forest  glades  we  could  see  the  choir 
approaching,  the  dusky  flash  of  brown  bodies 
swaying,  palpitating  to  the  intoxicating  rhythm  of 
the  song.  Slowly  and  with  great  dignity  they 
entered  the  clearing  and  stood,  a  score  of  slender 
creatures,  in  the  full  blaze  of  the  moon,  their  lithe- 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      41 

limbed  bodies  clad  only  in  delicate  mother-of-pearl 
rigolos. 

Thus  standing,  they  again  burst  into  the  melody 
of  their  national  love-song.  I  transcribe  the 
original  words  which  for  simple,  primitive  beauty 
are  without  rival. 

A  -a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a 
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e 


I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i 

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 

U-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u 

and  sometimes 
W -w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w 

and 
Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y 

The  music  is  indescribable,  I  can  only  say  that 
it  is  as  beautiful  as  the  words.* 

On  the  third  encore  they  turned  and  slowly  but 
surely  filed  out  of  the  clearing  into  the  forest. 
Long  after  they  had  disappeared  our  eyes  still 

*  "The  peculiarly  liquid  quality  of  Polynesian  phonetics  is  impossible  for 
foreigners  to  acquire.  Europeans  who  attempt  a  mastery  of  these  sounds 
invariably  suffer  from  what  etymologists  call  metabelia,  or  vowel  com 
plaint." — Pro/.  C.  H.  Towne,  Nyack  University. 


42      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

hung  over  the  edge  of  our  apartment  and  we  could 
hear  in  our  memories  the  sweet  refrain — 

W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w 
Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y 

As  we  lay  there  like  men  in  a  trance  I  saw  a  dull 
red  glow  on  the  horizon  and  then,  far  off  a  rocket 
split  the  velvet  night,  burst  into  stars  and  dis 
appeared. 

It  was  William  Henry  Thomas,  aboard  the 
Kawa — a  signal  of  distress!  Poor  goof!  We  had 
completely  forgotten  him. 

I  had  a  vague  sense,  shared,  I  think,  by  the  others, 
that  I  ought  to  worry  a  bit  about  him.  But  it 
was  no  use.  One  by  one  we  lowered  ourselves 
into  the  pit  of  our  aboreal  home  and  drifted  into 
delicious  languorous  reveries,  not  of  William 
Henry  Thomas.  We  had  other  things  to  think 
about. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  few  of  our  native  companions.  Filbertine  diet. 
Physiological  observations.  We  make  a  tour  of 
the  island.  A  call  on  the  ladies.  Baahaabaa 
gives  a  feast.  The  embarrassments  of  hospitality. 
An  alcoholic  escape. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"WE  really  must  do  something  about  William 
Henry  Thomas,"  I  said  on  the  day  following  our 
serenade. 

My  companions  agreed,  and  we  really  meant  it. 
But  alas,  how  easy  it  is  to  put  things  off.  Day 
after  day  slipped  by  and  we  thought  less  and 
less  of  our  boat-tending  sailorman  and  more 
and  more  of  what  a  magnificent  time  we  were 
having. 

The  chief's  name  was  Baahaabaa,  meaning  in 
Filbertese  "Durable  Drinker."  Among  his  com 
panions  were  several  who  soon  became  our  in 
timates — Hitoia-Upa  (Cocoanut  That  Never  Falls) 
and  Abluluti  (Big  Wind  Constantly  Blowing). 

In  every  case  reference  in  names  was  to  simple, 
natural  beauties.  How  much  more  interesting 
than  our  own  meaningless  nomenclature. 

We   soon   found    that    these    simple   folk   had 

45 


46      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

evolved  an  admirable  standard  day  in  which  there 
was  no  labor  whatever,  no  cooking,  even.  Imagine 
a  civilization,  and  I  use  the  word  advisedly,  in 
which  the  question  of  having  or  not  having  a  cook 
is  eliminated.  We  were  two  weeks  on  the  island 
before  any  one  of  us  realized  that  we  had  seen  no  fire. 
The  matches  which  we  used  to  light  our  pipes  were 
thought  to  be  marvelous  flowers  that  blossomed 
and  immediately  disappeared. 

Nature,  all  bountiful,  supplied  a  menu  of  amaz 
ing  variety.  Fruits,  vegetables,  combinations  of 
the  two,  edible  flowers  and,  above  all,  the  thousand 
and  one  kinds  of  nuts  from  which  the  islands 
receive  their  name,  were  at  hand  for  the  plucking. 
Our  breakfast  grew  on  the  ceiling  of  our  bedroom 
and  dropped  beside  us  with  charming  punctuality 
at  the  first  shiver  of  the  rising  trade. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  we  were  strict 
vegetarians.  Many  varieties  of  fish  and  Crustacea, 
as  well  as  certain  insects  and  some  of  the  smaller 
birds  were  eaten  raw.  European  and  American 
civilizations  alike  are  hopelessly  backward  in  this 
regard.  True,  we  eat  with  avidity  oysters  and 
clams  (except  in  the  Bapoo-period),  knowing  that 
they  are  not  only  raw  but  also  alive.  In  the  Filberts 
it  was  but  a  slight  step  forward  to  pop  into  one's 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      47 

mouth  a  wriggling  limpataa  (a  kind  of  marine 
lizard),  whose  antics  after  he  is  swallowed  are 
both  pleasant  and  novel.  The  hors  d'oeuvre 
course  of  a  Filbert  Island  banquet  is  one  roar  of 
laughter  caused  by  the  interior  tickling  of  the  agile 
food.  This  of  course  promotes  good  feeling  and 
leads  to  many  lasting  friendships. 

With  one's  meals  thus  always  ready-to-serve, 
with  no  cook  glowering  at  the  clock,  no  cheese 
souffle  ready  to  collapse,  no  dishes  to  wash  or 
frying-pans  to  scour,  life  is  one  long  gastronomic 
song. 

In  physical  stature  and  beauty  the  Filbertines 
are  far  above  the  average.  The  men  are  six  feet 
in  height  and  upwards,  and  proportionately  wide. 
By  a  combination  of  equable  climatic  and  economic 
conditions  this  altitude  has  become  standardized 
and  there  is  little  variation  from  it.  A  sort  of 
rough  control  is  exercised  in  this  regard.  When  a 
young  male  Filbertine  has  got  his  growth  he  is 
measured  with  a  bamboo  yardstick  to  see  if  he 
comes  up  to  requirements. 

If  not,  he  simply  disappears.  Little  is  said 
about  it,  but  the  fact  is  that  the  physical  failures 
are  moored  at  low  tide  to  a  lump  of  coral  on  one 
of  the  outer  reefs.  Sharks,  octopi  and  the  man- 


GATHERING  DEW-FISH  ON  THE  OUTER  REEF 

There  is  no  pleasanter  sight  in  the  world  than  that  of  the  stalwart  young 
Filbertine  youths  gathering  dew-fish  in  the  early  dawn  of  a  perfect  tropical 
day.  It  is  only  at  this  time  that  these  edible  little  creatures  can  be  caught. 
Just  as  the  sun's  rays  flash  across  the  horizon  they  rise  to  the  surface  of  the 
water  in  vast  numbers,  turning  the  entire  ocean  to  a  pulsating  mirror  of 
silver.  For  five  minutes  they  lie  thus,  then  suddenly  sink  simultaneously. 
Their  work  for  the  day,  so  far  as  we  know  it,  is  done.  The  natives  fill  their 
cheeks — which  are  very  elastic — with  hundreds  of  these  tiny  fish  which  they 
afterwards  eject  on  the  shore.  Here  we  see  Hitoia-Upa  and  Ablutiluti 
gathering  dew-fish  for  the  great  feast  given  in  honor  of  Dr.  Traprock  and 
his  companions. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      49 

eating  Wak-waks  do  the  rest.  This,  as  I  say,  is  a 
rough  sort  of  control  but  effective. 

In  facial  character  the  tribe  is  regular  and  well 
proportioned,  presenting  no  traces  of  negroid 
antecedents.  Noses  are  slender  and  slightly  re- 
troussed,  lips  clean-cut,  chins  modestly  assertive 
with  lower  jaws  superbly  adapted  to  cracking 
cocoanuts  and  oysters,  foreheads  low  with  suffi 
cient  projection  at  the  eye-line  for  shade  purposes. 
All  in  all,  they  are  entitled  to  an  A-plus  in 
beauty  and  reminded  me  less  of  Polynesians  than 
of  a  hand-picked  selection  of  Caucasians  who 
had  been  coated  with  a  flat-bronze  radiator 
paint. 

Beards,  moustaches,  imperials,  goatees,  side- 
whiskers  and  Gal  ways  are  unknown,  a  fact  which 
was  to  me  strange  considering  the  luxuriance  of 
other  vegetation  until  I  learned  that,  from  in 
fancy,  it  is  the  custom  of  the  Filbertine  mother  to 
scour  her  offspring's  face  with  powdered  coral 
which  discourages  the  facial  follicles.  These  even 
tually  give  up  and,  turning  inward  and  upward, 
result  in  a  veritable  crown  of  glory  on  the  top  of 
the  head,  the  place,  after  all,  where  the  hair  ought 
to  grow.  Their  teeth,  as  with  most  gramnivora, 
are  sound,  regular,  brilliantly  white  and  excep- 


50      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

tionally  large,  the  average  size  being  that  of  the 
double-blank  domino. 

So  much  for  the  men,  and  far  too  much,  if  you 
ask  me,  when  you  think  that  we  still  have  the 
adorable  women  to  speak  of. 

Ever  since  our  first  nocturnal  glimpse  of  the 
charming  creatures  you  can  imagine  that  my 
companions  and  I  were  most  eager  to  see  more  of 
them.  During  the  entire  next  day  not  one  of 
"les  belles  sauvages"  was  visible.  It  was  next  to 
impossible  to  make  inquiries,  but  Swank,  the  ir 
repressible,  resolved  to  try  and  plied  Baahaabaa 
with  questions  in  French,  English,  German  and 
beche-de-mer,  which  only  resulted  in  loud  laughter 
on  the  part  of  our  host.  Swank  next  tried  panto 
mime,  using  the  French  gesture  for  beauty,  a 
circular  motion  of  the  hands  about  his  face  ac 
companied  by  sickening  smiles.  Baahaabaa 
watched  him  intently,  slapped  his  hip  sharply, 
uttering  a  melodious  command  and  shortly  after 
ward  Hitoia-Upa  presented  Swank  with  a  beauti 
fully  made  wreath  of  elecampane  blossoms  (inula 
heleniori)  exactly  matching  his  beard.  This  was 
all  very  well  but  got  us  nowhere. 

On  the  day  following,  however,  our  difficulties 
were  unexpectedly  solved.  Abluluti  and  a  com- 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      51 

panion  of  his,  Moolitonu  (Bull-lost-in-a-Thunder- 
Storm),  indicated  by  certain  large  gestures  that  if 
we  liked  they  would  be  glad  to  make  a  tour  of 
the  island,  a  proposition  we  gladly  accepted. 
Moolitonu  was  our  official  map.  On  his  broad 
back  in  the  most  exquisite  azure  tattooing  was  a 
diagram  of  the  island  showing  all  main-routes, 
good  and  bad  trails  and  points  of  interest.  Moo 
litonu  was,  in  fact,  a  human  Blue-book. 

Equipped  with  individual  taa-taas  and  quart 
cocoanut  shells  of  hoopa,  a  delicious  twenty-seven 
per  cent,  milk,  we  set  out  along  a  well-traveled 
trail,  stopping  ever  and  anon  to  enjoy  the  tranquil 
beauty  of  the  outer  sea  or  the  more  spectacular 
glimpses  of  the  inner  lagoon  dominated  by  the 
mountain.  We  had  made  the  circuit  of  approxi 
mately  three-fourths  of  the  island,  when  suddenly, 
without  a  word  of  warning,  we  stumbled  into  the 
Hativa-faui,  or  ladies'  dressing-room.  Instantly 
we  were  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  captivating 
beauties.  Our  guides  had  evidently  counted  on 
our  surprise  for  they  laughed  uproariously,  their 
mirth  being  joyously  echoed  by  the  graceful  women 
who  crowded  about  us,  patting,  petting  and  bidding 
us  unmistakable  welcome  to  their  compound.  I 
have  never  seen  a  more  charming  sylvan  retreat. 


HERMAN  SWANK 

Since  the  exhibition  of  Herman  Swank's  South  Sea  Studies  in  the  Graham 
Galleries,  New  York  City,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  introduce  by  name  the 
illustrious  artist  who  has  justly  earned  the  title  of  "Premier  Painter  of 
Polynesia."  A  whole  school  of  painters  have  attempted  to  reproduce  the 
exotic  color  and  charm  of  these  entrancing  isles.  It  remained  for  Herman 
Swank,  by  his  now  famous  method  of  diagrammatic  symbolism,  to  bring 
the  truth  fully  home.  This  he  accomplished  by  living,  to  the  limit,  the 
native  life  of  the  Filbertese.  Clad  only  in  the  light  lamitu,  or  afternoon 
wrap  of  the  islands,  it  was  the  artist's  custom  to  spend  entire  days  inhaling 
the  perfume  of  the  fragment  alova  flower,  a  practice  which  undoubtedly 
accounts  for  the  far-away,  dreamy  expression  so  evident  in  the  photograph. 
He  is  also  wearing  the  paloota,  or  wedding  crown,  the  gift  of  his  lovely  island 
bride. 


Herman  Swank 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      53 

Let  me  briefly  outline  the  Filbertine  domestic 
arrangements  as  they  were  gradually  unfolded  to 
us.  To  begin  with,  make  no  mistake,  marriage 
in  the  Filbert  Islands  is  a  distinct  success.  This 
is  accomplished  by  the  almost  complete  separa 
tion  of  the  husband  from  his  wives.  During  the 
day  these  joyous  maids  and  matrons  lead  their 
own  lives  in  their  own  community,  rehearsing 
their  songs,  weaving  chaplets  of  flowers,  stringing 
pearls  for  their  simple  costumes,  playing  games 
and  exchanging  the  badinage  and  gossip  which 
are  the  life-breath  of  womanhood  the  world  over. 
They  are  inordinately  proud  of  their  hair,  as  well 
they  may  be,  and  spend  hours  at  a  time  dressing 
and  undressing  it. 

The  men,  on  their  side,  are  equally  free.  The 
result  is  that  a  meeting  with  their  wives  is  an  event. 
Happiness,  love  and  the  elation  of  celebration  are 
the  harmonious  notes  of  this  beautful  domestic 
diapason.  Feast-days,  banquets,  picnics,  swim 
ming  parties — the  Filbertines  adore  salt  water, 
which  is  not  potable  but  thirst-producing — these 
are  the  occasions  of  a  frank  and  joyous  mingling 
of  the  sexes. 

Before  we  left  the  clearing  we  were  treated  to  a 
most  graceful  spectacle,  a  performance  of  the 


54      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

Ataboi,  a  dance  descriptive  of  the  growth  and 
blossoming  of  the  alova  flower.  This  was  per 
formed  by  seven  beautiful  girls  to  an  accompani 
ment  of  song  and  clapping.  The  plaintive  love- 
motif  was  unmistakably  introduced  by  a  deep- 
chested  dame  who  played  on  the  bazoota,  a  primi 
tive  instrument  fashioned  from  the  stalk  of  the 
figwort  (Scrophulariacece).  It  may  interest  music 
lovers  to  know  that  the  Filbertines  employ  the 
diatetic  scale  exclusively,  four  notes  in  the  ascent 
and  five  on  the  recoil. 

At  the  close  of  the  performance  we  were  shown 
the  nursery  compound,  an  enclosure  teeming  with 
beautiful  children,  screened  by  hedges  where  the 
little  ones  could  be  heard  but  not  seen. 

Two  days  subsequent  to  our  amble  we  were 
invited  to  a  grand  banquet  which  led  to  disturbing 
problems  and  momentous  decision  on  our  part. 
This  feast  was  our  formal  welcome;  the  keys  of  the 
islands,  so  to  speak,  were  presented  to  us.  There 
were  ladies  present — and  everything. 

It  was  served  in  a  special  clearing  lighted  by 
the  moon  and  countless  anchoridae  tied  by  their 
legs  in  festoons,  a  procedure  which  causes  them  to 
open  and  shut  their  lambent  eyes  very  rapidly,  and 
gave  a  quaint  cinema  effect  to  the  scene.  After 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      55 

counting  the  courses  up  to  twenty-seven  I  lost 
as  each  was  accompanied  by  a  new  brand  of 
island  potion.  Fortunately  we  were  seated  on  the 
ground. 

Triplett  was  in  his  glory.  If  I  have  failed  to 
mention  recently  our  hard-bitten  old  navigator  it  is 
only  because  we  had  seen  comparatively  little  of 
him.  Resting  on  his  titular  dignity  as  chief  he 
seldom  appeared  in  public,  spending  most  of  his 
time  up  his  tree  snoozing  or  reading  an  old  copy  of 
the  New  Bedford  "Argus,"  which  he  was  never 
without.  Tonight,  however,  he  blazed  forth  in 
full  regalia,  wearing  his  best  blue  marble,  his  visor- 
cap  wreathed  with  nabiscus  blossoms,  his  case- 
hardened  countenance  lighted  with  conviviality. 
Following  an  interminable  period  of  eating  and 
drinking  came  a  long  speech  by  Baahaabaa  which, 
like  most  after-dinner  speeches,  meant  nothing  to 
me.  Captain  Triplett  replied.  The  gist  of  Trip- 
lett's  remarks,  memorized  from  the  "Argus,"  were 
taken  from  the  1916  report  of  the  New  Bedford 
Board  of  Trade.  When  he  proclaimed  that  "be 
sides  cotton  goods,  100,000  pianos  were  turned  out 
yearly  and  8,500  derby  hats  every  day,"  his 
audience,  set  off  by  Whinney,  burst  into  up 
roarious  applause.  The  climax  was  reached  when 


56      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

he  lowered  his  voice  dramatically  and  said,  "And 
keep  always  in  mind,  O  Baahaabaa  and  friends, 
that  the  New  England  Fur  Company  uses  daily 
35,000  rabbit  pelts!  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you." 

Pandemonium  broke  loose.  Triplett  was  show 
ered  with  congratulations.  Music  and  dancing 
followed,  among  others  an  amazing  performance 
by  a  sturdy  youth,  Zambao-Zambino  (Young- 
Man-Proud-of-His-Waist-Line)  who  rendered  a 
solo  by  striking  his  distended  anatomy  with  his 
clenched  fist,  varying  the  tone  by  relaxing  or 
tightening  the  abdominal  muscles.  Whinney  sang 
a  very  dreary  arrangement  of  Mandalay" — his 
one  parlor  trick;  Swank  did  an  imitation  of  Elsie 
Janis's  imitation  of  Ethel  Barrymore  and  I  sang 
"The  Wreck  of  the  Julie  Plante,"  an  amusing 
ballad  describing  the  loss  by  drowning  of  an  entire 
ship's  company. 

But  the  climax  was  yet  to  come. 

There  was  a  vague  sort  of  commotion  among  the 
banqueters  and  Baahaabaa  rose  with  amazing 
steadiness  and  made  another  speech,  short  this 
time,  but  aimed  point-blank  at  us,  after  which, 
through  the  center  of  a  sort  of  kick-off  formation 
I  saw  approaching  four  of  the  most  exquisite 
women  in  the  world.  When  ten  feet  away  they 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      57 

fell  on  all  fours  and,  using  the  Australian  crawl- 
stroke,  crept  slowly  toward  us,  exhaling  sounds 
of  passionate  endearment  mingled  with  the  heart- 
stopping  fragrance  of  alova.  Beyond  the  glimmer 
ing  lights,  an  unseen  choir  burst  into  the  "a-a-a" 
of  the  national  love-song. 

It  was  a  critical  not  to  say  embarrassing  mo 
ment.  These  lovely  ladies  were  very  evidently 
presents,  banquet-favors  so  to  speak,  which  we 
were  expected  to  take  home  with  us.  To  refuse 
them  meant  certain  offense,  perhaps  death.  Trip- 
lett  was  plainly  non-plussed.  Swank  and  Whinney 
were  too  far  gone  to  be  of  any  assistance.  Sum 
moning  all  my  reserve  strength  I  rose  and  faced 
the  whirling  assembly. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  said  solemnly,  "one  final  toast, 
to  the  President  of  the  United  States," — at  the 
same  time  draining  a  huge  shell  of  hoopa.  My 
companions  followed  suit  and  we  fell  simulta 
neously. 

For  the  next  twenty -four  hours  we  were  safe. 
After  that,  who  knew? 


CHAPTER  V 

A  frank  statement.  We  vote  on  the  question  of 
matrimony.  A  triple  wedding.  An  epithalamic 
verse.  We  remember  the  "Kawa."  An  inter 
view  with  William  Henry  Thomas.  Tripletfs 
strategy.  Safe  within  the  atoll. 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  most  volumes  on  the  South  Seas  the  chapter 
which  I  am  about  to  write  would  be  omitted.  I 
mean  to  say  that  we  have  reached  a  point  in  my 
narrative  in  which  the  status  of  our  relations  with 
the  Filbertine  women,  as  such,  must  either  be 
discussed  frankly  and  openly,  or  treated  in  the 
usual  tongue-in-cheek  fashion  which  seems  to  be 
the  proper  thing  with  English  and  American 
writers. 

I  have  looked  them  all  over  carefully  (the  writers, 
I  mean),  and  find  them  divided  into  two  categories, 
those  who  take  their  wives  along  as  a  guarantee  of 
virtue,  or  those  who  are  by  nature  Galahads, 
Parsifals  and  St.  Anthonys.  This  latter  group  is 
to  me  particularly  trying.  They  revel  in  descrip 
tions  of  desirous  damsels  with  burning  eyes  who 
crave  companionship,  but  when  an  artfully  devised 
encounter  throws  one  of  these  passionate  persons 

61 


62      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

across  the  path  of  the  man  behind  the  pen,  does  he 
falter  or  swerve  or  make  a  misstep  ?  Never.  Right 
there  is  where  the  blood  of  the  Galahads  tells. 
Supremely  he  rises  above  temptation!  Gracefully 
he  sidesteps!  Innocently  he  falls  asleep! 

I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  I  think  it's  just  a 
case  of  literary  men  sticking  together. 

Two  days  after  the  Grand  Banquet  described  in 
the  last  chapter,  Whinney,  Swank  and  I  awoke 
with  a  sigh  of  simultaneous  satisfaction,  com 
pletely  rested  and  restored.  Ten  minutes  later 
we  were  engaged  in  a  brisk  debate  in  which  the 
question  before  the  house  was,  stated  boldly, 
Should  we  or  should  we  not  "go  native?"  In  other 
words,  should  we  hold  ourselves  aloof,  live  con 
trary  to  the  customs  of  the  country  and  mortally 
offend  our  hosts, — to  say  nothing  of  our  hostesses, 
— or  should  we  fulfil  our  destinies,  take  unto  our 
selves  island  brides  and  eat  our  equatorial  fruit, 
core  and  all? 

For  the  purpose  of  discussion  Whinney  was 
designated  to  uphold  the  negative,  and  for  an  hour 
we  argued  the  matter  pro  and  con.  Whinney 
advanced  a  number  of  arguments,  the  difference 
in  our  nationalities,  our  standing  in  our  home 
communities  (which  I  thought  an  especially  weak 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      63 

point),  our  lack  of  a  common  language,  and 
several  other  trivial  objections,  all  of  which  Swank 
and  I  demolished  until  Whinney  got  peevish  and 
insisted  that  he  and  I  change  sides. 

I  spoke  very  seriously  of  the  lack  of  precedent 
for  the  step  which  we  were  considering  and  of 
what  my  people  in  Derby,  Conn.,  would  say  when 
they  learned  that  a  Traprock  had  married  a 
Filbert.  Swank  replied  with  some  heat  that  he 
didn't  believe  that  anything  could  be  said  in 
Derby  that  hadn't  been  said  already  and  Whinney 
was  much  more  eloquent  on  the  affirmative  than 
he  had  been  on  the  negative.  Finally  when  I 
thought  we  had  talked  enough  I  said — 

"Well,  gentlemen,  are  you  ready  for  a  ballot?" 

"We  are,"  said  Swank  and  Whinney. 

"Remember,"  I  warned,  "The  green  nuts  are 
for  the  affirmative, — the  black  ones  for  th'e 
negative.  Secret  ballots,  of  course." 

Wrapping  our  votes  in  metani  leaves  we  dropped 
them  in  the  ballot  shell.  WTiinney  was  teller. 
It  was  an  anxious  moment  until  he  looked  up 
and  said  with  a  hysterical  quiver  in  his  voice : 

"Unanimously  green." 

"Let's  go!"  shouted  Swank,  but  I  stopped 
him. 


64      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

"Hold  on,"  I  said.  "Triplett  is  in  on  this.  We 
agreed  that  it  must  be  unanimous." 

My  companions'  faces  lengthened  like  barrel- 
staves. 

"Damn,"  muttered  Whinney.  "I  hadn't  thought 
of  him." 

You  can  imagine  our  disgust  when  we  inter 
viewed  the  Captain. 

"Not  on  your  life!"  he  said  decidedly.  "Why, 
boys,  I  got  two  a  'em  a-ready,  one  in  Noo  Bedford — 
she's  my  lawful, — and  one — a  sort  of  'er  dee- 
pendence,  in  Sausalito.  But  boys,  I  don't  go  for 
to  commit  trigonometry,  no  sir!" 

Thunder  rested  on  our  brows  but  the  Captain 
continued, — 

"But  you — you  boys,  you  ain't  married,  least 
ways  if  you  are  I  don't  know  about  it,  and  if  you 
ain't" — he  looked  at  us  severely, — "if  you  ain't, 
it's  high  time  you  was.  And  what's  more,  if  you 
want  to  be,  I  kin  do  it  for  you." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  we  gasped. 

"Justice  of  the  peace,"  he  said  proudly,  "dooly 
signed    and    registered    in    Dartmouth    County, 
Mass." 
We  were  overwhelmed.     This  was  more  than  we 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      65 

dared  hope  for, — more  than  we  had  even  dreamed 
of! 

"Now,  boys,"  said  the  Captain  in  a  fatherly 
tone,  "lemme  tell  you  something.  While  I've 
been  a-roostin'  up  here  in  my  perch,  I've  been 
a-watchin'  you  boys;  a-watchin'  an'  a-worryin'. 
What  have  you  been  a-doin'?  You've  been  a- 
raisin'  hell,  you  have.  Son,  you  ain't  a  rote  a 
word,  have  yer?  An'  you,  WTiinney — boy,  you 
ain't  ketched  a  bug  nor  a  beetle,  have  yer?  And 
you,  ole  Swanko-panko,  you  ain't  drawed  a  line, 
have  yer?" 

We  hung  our  heads  like  schoolboys  before  the 
master.  Of  course  if  Triplett  put  it  that  way,  on 
moral  grounds,  so  to  speak,  there  was  no  more  to 
be  said. 

"Well,  what's  the  answer?"  he  continued.  "It's 
time  you  got  married  an'  settled  down,  ain't  it? 
When  is  it  to  be?" 


It  was  a  triple  wedding,  the  first  and  probably 
the  last  in  the  Filbert  Islands,  and  one  of  the  most 
charming  affairs  I  have  ever  seen.  We  left  the 
selection  of  our  brides  to  Baahaabaa  and,  believe 
me,  he  showed  himself  a  master-picker.  The 


66      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

ceremony  took  place  on  the  beach  at  high  mid 
night,  the  fashionable  island  hour. 

How  happy  we  all  were !  Triplett's  qualifications 
had  completely  cleared  the  atmosphere  of  any 
moral  misgivings  which  might  have  clouded  the 
beauty  of  the  gorgeous  tropical  night.  The  Cap 
tain  read  a  service  of  his  own  composition  full  of 
legal  whereases  and  aforesaids  and  containing  one 
reference  to  the  laws  of  the  Commonwealth  of  the 
State  of  Massachusetts  which  struck  me  as  rather 
far-fetched  but  which  under  the  circumstances  I 
decided  to  let  pass. 

Mrs.  Traprock,  of  whom  I  can  even  now  write 
only  with  deep  emotion,  was  an  exquisite  creature, 
constructed  in  accordance  with  the  best  South 
Sea  specifications  in  every  particular.  Swank 
and  Whinney  were  equally  fortunate.  We  would 
not  have  traded  wives  for  ten  tons  of  copra  though 
Moolitonu,  who  was  my  best  man,  explained  that 
this  was  perfectly  possible  in  case  we  were  not 
satisfied. 

The  gayest  of  wedding  breakfasts  followed  at 
which  all  the  ushers  behaved  in  the  orthodox 
manner  after  which  we  were  conducted  to  our  in 
dividual  trees  with  appropriate  processional  and 
epithalamic  chorals.  The  ladies'  singing  society 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      67 

had  composed  for  the  occasion  a  special  ode  which 
ran  as  follows: 

Hooio-hooio  uku  kai  unio, 
Kipiputuonaa  aaa  till  huti, 
0  tefi  tapu,  0  eio  hoki 
Hoio-hooio  ona  haasi  tui. 

This  was  set  to  a  slow  five-eighths  rhythm.  A 
crude  translation  of  the  words,  lacking  entirely 
the  onomatopoetic  quality  of  the  original  goes 
something  like  this: 

Stay,  O  stay,  Moon  in  your  ascending! 
Daughter  of  Pearl  and  Coral  to  the  Moon  up- 

goes, 

Stay,  O  stay,  Moon  with  light  unending, 
Coral,  Pearl  and  Moonlight,  guard  them  from 

falling  cocoanuts. 

I  should  stand  convicted  of  ingratitude  if  I 
did  not  here  and  now  pay  tribute  to  the  sound 
common-sense  of  Captain  Triplett  at  whose  in 
stigation  we  had  embarked  upon  this  our  great 
adventure.  As  Triplett  had  predicted,  ere  a  few 
days  had  passed  we  found  awakening  within  us 
the  fires  of  ambition  which  had  sunk  lower  and 
lower  in  our  breasts  during  our  two  weeks  of 


68      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

carousing.  We  were  now  responsible  married 
men.  We  wanted  to  do  something  to  take  our 
places  in  the  community. 

I  began  to  scribble  furtively  on  the  back  of  an 
old  manuscript — the  book  of  an  operetta  I  had 
once  written,  a  musical  version  of  Les  Miserables 
called  "Jumping  Jean,"  in  reference  to  which  one 
of  the  New  York  producers,  Dillingham,  I  think, 
wrote  me:  "You  have  out-Hugo-ed  Hugo;  this  is 
more  miserable  than  Les  Miserables  itself!"  I 
noticed  also  that  Swank  began  to  use  his  atelier 
jargon  of  "tonal  values"  and  "integrity  of  line," 
while  Whinney  showed  up  one  morning  in  the 
village  circle  with  a  splendid  blossom  of  the 
bladder-campion  (Silene  latifolia)  pinned  to  the 
center  of  his  helmet. 

It  was  doubtless  this  renaissance  of  mental 
activity  that  reminded  us  of  the  Kawa  and  of 
William  Henry  Thomas.  Great  heavens,  what 
would  he  think  of  us?  Here  nearly  a  month  had 
elapsed,  we  were  mostly  married  and  had  never 
given  him  a  thought.  We  were  filled  with  com 
punction.  On  top  of  this  Triplett  came  to  us  with 
the  announcement  that  Baahaabaa  had  informed 
him  that  we  might  expect  a  big  wind  about  this 
time.  Remembering  what  we  had  been  through 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA       69 

the  Captain  was  worried  about  our  tight  little 
craft. 

"He  allows,"  said  Triplett,  jerking  his  thumb 
at  the  chief,  "that  we  orter  git  the  Tree-with- 
Wings  in  out'er  the  wet.  The  question  is,  where 
be  she?" 

I  explained  our  anxieties  to  Ablutiluti  who, 
after  a  glance  at  Moolitonu's  diagrammatic  shoulder 
blades,  immediately  set  out  along  a  winding  path 
to  the  shore.  I  was  surprised  at  the  shortness  of 
the  distance.  A  half-hour's  walk  brought  us  to 
the  beach  and  there  lay  the  Kawa  as  handy  as  you 
please.  She  had  been  considerably  tidied  up  since 
our  departure.  Our  blanket-sail  had  been  stowed 
and  between  the  dingey-oars,  which  were  rigged 
fore-and-aft,  stretched  a  rope  of  eva-eva  from  which, 
to  our  surprise,  hung  an  undershirt  and  a  dainty 
feminine  rigolo.  But  no  sign  of  William  Henry 
Thomas.  In  vain  we  shouted,  "Kawa  ahoy!"  and 
hurled  lumps  of  coral.  All  was  mysteriously  quiet. 

Triplett  finally  pulled  out  his  Colt  and,  being 
a  dead  shot,  drilled  the  undershirt  through  the 
second  button.  This  had  the  desired  effect.  Our 
crew  almost  immediately  appeared  on  deck  and 
shouted  peevishly,  "Hey  there,  quit  it." 

I  will  not  repeat  what  we  said  in  reply  as  this 


LUPOBA-TILAANA,  MIST  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN 

Readers  of  the  text  may  have  noticed  that  animal  life  plays  a  very  un 
important  part  in  the  life  of  the  Filbertines.  Exception  must  be  made  in 
the  case  of  a  magnificent  ooka-snake,  the  only  one  on  the  islands,  which 
was  the  proudest  possession  of  lovely  Lupoba,  who  later  became  the  wife 
of  Herman  Swank.  The  ooka-snake  lives  entirely  upon  cocoanut  milk  which 
gives  him  a  gentle  disposition  admirably  adapted  for  petting.  Mr.  Swank 
has  confessed  that  his  wife's  fondness  for  the  creature  stirred  in  him  a  very 
real  jealousy  which,  in  view  of  the  charming  testimony  of  her  portrait,  we 
can  well  understand.  A  painting  of  Mrs.  Swank  by  her  husband  has  re 
cently  been  purchased  by  the  Corcoran  Art  Gallery  of  Washington,  D.  C. 


o 

I 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      71 

is  a  book  for  the  home,  but  it  had  a  surprising 
result. 

"Is  that  so?"  yelled  William  Henry  Thomas  and 
proceeded  to  step  jauntily  over  the  rail  and  walk 
in  our  direction.  I  knew  he  couldn't  swim  a  stroke 
and  yet  here  he  was,  performing  an  apparent 
miracle  right  in  our  faces.  Then  it  suddenly 
dawned  on  me — he  was  walking  on  the  coral 
branches! 

It  was  not  a  particularly  pleasant  interview. 

After  apologizing  for  our  absence,  which  we 
attributed  to  illness,  we  broke  the  news  as  gently 
as  possible  that  we  were  married. 

'Well,"  said  William  Henry  Thomas,  "so  be 
I  ...  the  lady's  on  board." 

"You  old  land-crab!"  blazed  Whinney.  "Who 
married  you?" 

"She  did,"  he  replied. 

"But  who  performed  the  ceremony?"  asked 
Swank. 

"Me,"  answered  William  Henry. 

In  vain  we  tried  to  explain  the  necessity  of 
proper  rites.  His  only  rejoinder  was,  "You're  too 
late." 

But  what  made  our  sailor-man  maddest  was  the 
information  that  the  yawl  had  to  be  moved. 


72      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

"Here  I  be  as  snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug,"  he 
stormed,  "an'  you  go  gallivantin'  round  marrying 
an'  what  all,  an'  now  you  show  up  an  boost  me 
out.  Its  e-viction,  that's  what  it  is,  e-viction." 

This  was  a  long  speech  for  William  Henry 
Thomas;  fortunately  it  was  his  last.  While  he 
was  delivering  it  I  heard  a  slight  splash  and  turned 
just  in  time  to  see  a  seal-like  form  slip  over  the 
Kawa's  counter  and  disappear.  I  watched  in  vain 
for  her  reappearance.  Doubtless  like  all  Fil- 
bertines  she  could  stay  under  water  for  hours  at  a 
time.  After  that  Thomas  sullenly  did  Triplett's 
bidding  and  half-heartedly  assisted  in  the  work  of 
getting  the  Kawa  into  the  atoll. 

It  was  an  arduous  task.  For  four  days  we 
labored,  working  our  vessel  close  in  shore  opposite 
a  clearing  in  the  forest,  where  the  outer  island  was 
not  more  than  quarter  of  a  mile  wide  and  free  from 
trees.  Instructed  by  Triple tt,  we  paved  the  high 
way  to  the  lagoon  with  cocoanuts.  Our  wives 
and  friends  thinking  it  was  a  game,  assisted  us. 
If  they  had  known  it  was  work  they  would,  of 
course,  have  knocked  off  immediately.  And 
then  the  promised  storm  broke  and  I  saw  Triplett's 
plan. 

It  was  such  a  storm  as  this,  undoubtedly,  that 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      73 

had  struck  us  on  July  4th.  This  time,  crouched 
in  the  shelter  of  the  near-by  trees,  clinging  to  the 
matted  haro,  we  were  free  to  watch  a  stupendous 
spectacle.  Triplett  alone  went  aboard  and  lashed 
himself  to  the  improvised  steering  post.  Our  sail 
had  been  stretched  and  rigged  with  hundreds  of 
yards  of  eva-eva,  in  addition  to  which  four  large 
taa-taas  were  lashed  along  the  scuppers. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  the  wind  had 
risen  to  super-hurricane  force.  Suddenly  Baa- 
haabaa  let  out  a  yell  of  warning  and  pointed  sea 
ward.  Rushing  toward  us  at  lightning  speed  was 
a  wall  of  white  water,  sixty  feet  high!  In  a  trice 
we  were  all  in  the  treetops,  my  wife  hauling  me 
after  her  with  praiseworthy  devotion.  All,  did  I 
say?  All  but  Triplett.  He  was  sublime.  Then 
for  the  first  time  I  knew  that  he  was,  in  truth,  our 
chief.  Waving  his  free  arm  at  the  advancing 
maelstrom,  he  yelled  defiance.  Then  this  towering 
seawall  hit  him  square  in  the  stern. 

I  caught  one  fleeting  glimpse  of  the  Kawa  gal 
lantly  riding  the  foam.  An  instant  later  she  was 
flung  with  a  tremendous  crash  far  down  the  leafy 
lane.  Fully  half  the  distance  she  must  have  gone 
in  that  first  onslaught.  The  last  eighth-of-a-mile 
she  ground  her  way  through  a  torrent  of  sea  and 


74      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

cocoanuts.  The  forest  rang  with  the  bellowing 
wind,  the  snapping  coral  branches  and  the  screams 
of  the  whistling-trout  fighting  vainly  against 
the  current.  What  a  plan  was  Triplett's!  The 
cocoanuts,  being  movable,  rolled  with  the 
flood  and  actually  acted  as  ballbearings.  With 
out  them  our  craft  must  certainly  have  burst 
asunder. 

The  storm  passed  as  quickly  as  it  had  come  and 
by  the  time  we  had  clambered  to  the  ground  and 
rushed  across  the  atoll  there  lay  our  tight  little 
darling,  peacefully  at  anchor  in  the  still  waters  of 
the  lagoon,  with  Triplett  on  her  quarter-deck  im 
mersed  in  the  New  Bedford  "Argus." 


CHAPTER  VI 

Marital  memories.  A  pillow-fight  on  the  beach.  A 
deep-sea  devil.  The  opening  in  the  atoll.  Swank 
paints  a  portrait.  The  fatu-liva  bird  and  its 
curious  gift.  My  adventure  with  the  wak-ivak. 
Saved! 


CHAPTER  VI 

I  SHALL  never  forget  a  day  when  my  bride  and  I 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  lagoon  after  our  matinal  dip 
in  its  pellucid  waters.  It  was  a  perfect  September 
morn.  So  was  she. 

"My  dear,"  I  said  suddenly,  "Hatiaa  Kappa 
eppe  taue." 

It  sounds  like  a  college  fraternity  but  really 
means,  "My  woodlark,  what  is  your  name?" 

I  had  been  married  over  a  week  and  I  did  not 
know  my  wife's  name. 

"Kippiputuonaa,"  she  murmured  musically. 

"Taro  ititi  aa  moieha  ephaa  lihaha?"  I  ques 
tioned,  which,  freely  translated,  is  "What?" 

"Kippiputuonaa." 

Then,  throwing  back  her  head  with  its  superb 
aureole  of  hair  she  softly  crooned  the  words  and 
music  of  the  choral  which  the  community  chorus 
had  sung  on  our  wedding  night. 

77 


78      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

Hooio-hooio  uku  hai  unio 
Kippiputunonaa  aaa  titi  huti 

0  tefi  tapu,  0  eio  hold 
Hooio-hooio,  one  naani-tui. 

How  it  all  came  back  to  me!  Leaning  towards 
her,  I  gently  pressed  the  lobe  of  her  ear  with  my 
chin,  the  native  method  of  expressing  deep  affec 
tion.  Her  dusky  cheeks  flushed  and  with  infinite 
shyness  she  lifted  her  left  foot  and  placed  it  on 
my  knee.  Tattooed  the  length  of  the  roseleaf  sole 
in  the  graceful  ideographic  lettering  of  the  islands 
I  read — 

"Kippiputuonaa,"  (Daughter  of  Pearl  and 
Coral). 

"What  an  exquisite  name!"  I  murmured,  "and 
so  unusual!" 

1  was  awed.     I  felt  as  if  this  superb  creature, 
my  mate,  had  revealed  to  me  the  last,  the  most 
hidden  of  her  secrets.     I  had  heard  of  Mother  of 
Pearl, — but  of  the  Daughter — never  .  .  .  and  I 
was  married  to  her! 

"And  you,"  she  whispered,  "are  Naani-Tui, 
Face-of -the-Moon !" 

I  liked  that.  Frankly  I  was  a  bit  set  up  about 
it.  It  sounded  so  much  better  than  Moon-face. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      79 

I  thrust  out  my  left  foot,  bare  of  any  inscription, 
and  she  tickled  it  playfully  with  a  blade  of  haro. 
Radiant  Kippiputuonaa — whom  I  soon  called 
"Kippy"  for  short — your  name  shall  ever  remain 
a  blessed  memory,  the  deepest  and  dearest  wound 
in  my  heart. 

Kippy  proposed  that  I  should  be  marked  for 
identification  hi  the  usual  manner,  but  I  shuddered 
at  the  thought.  I  was  far  too  ticklish;  I  should 
have  died  under  the  needle! 

What  days  of  joyous  romping  we  had!  One 
morning  a  little  crowd  of  us,  just  the  Swanks, 
Whinneys  and  ourselves,  met  on  the  beach  for  a 
pillow-fight.  It  was  a  rare  sport,  and,  as  the 
pillows  were  eighteen-inch  logs  of  rapiti-wood,  not 
without  its  element  of  danger.  A  half -hour  of  this 
and  we  lay  bruised  and  panting  on  the  beach 
listening  to  the  hoarse  bellowing  of  the  wak- 
waks. 

The  wak-wak  is  without  exception  the  most  out 
rageous  creature  that  ploughs  the  deep  in  fishy 
guise.  For  man-eating  qualities  he  had  the  shark 
skinned  a  nautical  mile. 

Whinney  made  a  true  remark  to  me  one  night, — 
one  of  the  few  he  ever  made.  The  ocean  was 
particularly  audible  that  evening. 


WATCHFUL  WAITING 

There  was  something  about  the  unfamiliar  appearance  of  Dr.  Traprock's 
yawl,  the  Kawa,  which  filled  the  beautiful  native  women  with  a  wonder  not 
unmixed  with  apprehension.  This  was  particularly  true  of  the  lovely 
creatures  who  married  the  three  intrepid  explorers.  The  strange  object 
which  had  brought  to  the  islands  these  wonderful  white  men  might  some 
day  carry  them  away  again!  In  view  of  the  tragic  subsequent  events  there 
is  something  infinitely  pathetic  in  this  charming  beach-study  where  Kip- 
piputuonaa  is  seen  anxiously  watching  "the  tree-with-wings"  (as  she  naively 
called  the  yawl),  where  her  husband,  Dr.  Traprock,  is  at  work  rigging  a  new 
yard-arm.  The  Kawat  unfortunately,  is  just  out  of  the  picture. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA       81 

"Listen  to  that  surf,"  I  remarked.  "I  never 
heard  it  grumble  like  that  before." 

"You'd  grumble,  if  you  were  full  of  wak-waks," 
he  said. 

The  wdk-wak  has  a  mouth  like  a  subway  entrance 
and  I  was  told  that  so  great  was  his  appetite  for 
human  flesh  that  when,  as  occasionally  happened, 
some  unfortunate  swimmer  had  been  eaten  by  a 
shark,  a  wak-wak  was  sure  to  come  rushing  up 
and  bolt  shark,  man  and  all.  Consequently  I  did 
most  of  my  swimming  in  the  lagoon. 

Speaking  of  the  lagoon  reminds  me  of  an  absurd 
bit  of  information  I  picked  up  from  Kippy  that 
made  me  feel  as  flat  as  a  pressed  fern.  We  were 
wandering  along  the  shore  one  morning  and  she 
suddenly  pointed  to  the  Kawa  and  said  laugh 
ingly. 

"Why  Tippi-litti  (Triplett)  bring  Tree-with- 
Wings  over  Hoopoi  (cocoanuts)?" 

"Why  not  swim?"  she  asked.  "Look  see.  Big 
hole." 

I  looked  and  saw.  A  whole  section  of  the  atoll 
near  where  we  were  standing  was  movable! 
Kippy  jumped  up  and  down  on  it  and  it  rocked  like 
a  raft.  At  the  edges  I  saw  that  it  was  lashed  to  the 
near-by  trees  with  vines!  Cheap?  You  could 


82      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

have  bought  me  for  a  bad  clam.  As  I  thought 
of  the  days  we  had  sweated  over  those  damned 
cocoanuts,  of  Triplett's  peril,  of  the  danger  to  the 
yawl,  while  our  very  families  looked  on  and 
laughed,  thinking  it  was  a  game,  and  we  might 
have  slipped  out  the  movable  lock-gate  and  simply 
eased  through — well,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
married  life  I  was  mad.  Kippy  was  all  tenderness 
in  an  instant. 

"Face-of-Moon,  no  rain,"  she  begged,  "Daughter 
of  Pearl  and  Coral  eat  clouds." 

She  chinned  my  ear  passionately,  and  I  was  dis 
armed  in  an  instant. 

I  hated  to  tell  Triplett — it  seemed  to  dim  his 
glory,  but  I  needn't  have  worried. 

"Good  business,"  he  exclaimed.  "We  can  get 
her  out  inter  the  open  an'  have  some  sailin'  parties. 
I'd  like  to  catch  one  of  them  wak-waks." 

That  was  the  sort  Triplett  was.  He'd  done 
his  trick  and  there  was  an  end  of  it.  The  next 
day  he  had  William  Henry  Thomas  busy  re-rigging 
the  Kawa.  William  Henry  Thomas,  by  the  way, 
insisted  on  living  on  board  in  happy  but  unholy 
wedlock,  and  Whinney,  Swank  and  I  felt  that  it 
was  better  so.  Somehow  we  considered  him  the 
village  scandal. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      83 

During  these  peaceful  days  I  wrote  a  great  deal, 
posting  up  my  diary  as  far  as  we  had  gone  and 
jotting  down  a  lot  of  valuable  material.  Swank 
had  got  his  impedimenta  off  the  boat  and  began 
daubing  furiously,  landscapes,  seascapes,  mono 
types,  ideographs,  everything.  Most  of  them  were 
hideously  funny,  but  he  did  one  thing, — inspired  by 
love,  I  suppose — a  portrait  of  his  wife  that  was  a 
hummer.  She  was  a  lovely  little  thing  with  a 
lovely  name,  Lupoba-Tilaana,  "Mist-on-the- 
Mountain." 

"Swank,"  I  said,  "that's  a  ten-strike.  The 
mountain  is  a  little  out  of  focus  but  the  mist  is 
immense!" 

He  squirted  me  with  yellow  ochre. 

Whinney  was  in  his  element.  Ornithology, 
botany,  ethulology,  he  took  them  all  on  single- 
handed. 

"Listen  to  that,"  he  said  to  me  one  night  as 
we  were  strolling  back  from  a  friendly  game 
of  Kahooti  with  Baahaabaa  and  some  of  our 
friends. 

I  listened.  It  was  the  most  unearthly  and  at  the 
same  time  the  most  beautiful  bird-song  I  have  ever 
heard. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  as  the  cry  resounded 


84      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

again,  a  piercing  screech  of  pain  ending  in  a  long 
yowl  of  joy. 

"It  is  the  motherhood  cry  of  the  fatu-liva,"  he 
said.  "She  has  just  laid  an  egg." 

"But  why  the  note  of  suffering?"  I  queried. 

"The  eggs  of  the  fatu-liva  are  square,"  said 
Whinney,  and  I  was  silenced. 

Motherhood  is  indeed  the  great  mystery.  Little 
did  I  realize  that  night  how  much  I  was  to  owe  to 
the  fatu-liva  and  her  strange  maternal  gift  which 
saved  my  life  in  one  of  the  weirdest  adventures 
that  has  ever  befallen  mortal  man. 

It  was  a  placid  day  on  the  sea  and  Kippy  and  I 
were  returning  from  a  ten-mile  swim  to  a  neighbor 
ing  island  whither  I  had  been  taken  to  be  shown  off 
to  some  relatives. 

"Wak-wak9"  I  had  said  when  she  first  proposed 
the  expedition,  but  she  had  laughed  gaily  and 
nodded  her  head  to  indicate  that  there  was  not  the 
slightest  danger,  and,  shamed  into  it,  we  had  set 
forth  and  made  an  excellent  crossing. 

On  the  return  trip,  midway  between  the  two 
islands,  I  was  floating  lazily,  supported  by  a  girdle 
of  inflated  dew-fish  bladders  and  towed  by 
Kippy.  She  had  propped  over  my  head  her 
verdant  taa-taa  without  which  the  natives  never 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      85 

swim  for  fear  of  the  tropical  sun,  and  I  think  I 
must  have  dozed  off  for  I  was  suddenly  roused  by 
a  hoarse  Klaxon-bellow  "Kaaraschaa-gha!"  which 
told  me  all  too  plainly  that  I  was  in  the  most 
hideous  peril. 

"Wak-wak!"  I  barked,  and  all  my  past  life 
began  to  unfold  before  me. 

It  was  a  horrid  sight — the  wak-wak,  I  mean.  He 
was  swimming  on  the  surface,  and  at  ten  feet  I 
saw  his  great  jaws  open,  lined  with  row  upon  row 
of  teeth  that  stretched  back  into  his  interior  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach  and  farther.  Mixed  up 
with  this  dreadful  reality  were  visions  of  my  past. 
I  seemed  to  be  peering  into  one  of  those  vast, 
empty  auditoriums  that  had  greeted  my  opera, 
"Jumping  Jean,"  when  it  was  finally  produced, 
privately. 

"Help!    Help!"  I  screamed,  reverting  to  English. 

Suddenly  Kippy  seized  the  taa-taa  from  my 
nerveless  grasp.  Half  closing  it,  she  swam  directly 
toward  the  monster  into  whose  widening  throat 
she  thrust  the  sharp-pointed  instrument,  in,  in, 
until  I  thought  she  herself  would  follow  it.  And 
then,  as  she  had  intended,  the  point  pierced  the 
wak-wak's  tonsil. 

With  a  shriek  of  pain  his  jaws  began  to  close 


86      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

and,  on  the  instant,  Kippy  yanked  the  handle  with 
all  her  might,  opening  the  taa-taa  to  its  full  extent 
in  the  beast's  very  narrows. 

Choked  though  he  was,  unable  for  the  moment  to 
bite  or  expel  the  outer  air  and  submerge,  the  brute 
was  still  dangerous.  Kippy  was  towing  me  shore 
ward  at  a  speed  which  caused  the  sea  to  foam 
about  my  bladders  but  the  wdk-wdk  still  pursued 
us.  A  second  time  my  dauntless  mate  rose  to  the 
occasion. 

With  amazing  buoyancy  she  lifted  herself  to 
a  half -seated  position  on  the  surface  of  the  water 
and  poured  forth  the  most  astounding  imitation 
of  the  motherhood  cry  of  the  fatu-liva. 

*  'Biloo-ow-o  w-o  w-o  w-zing-aaa ! ' ' 

Again,  and  yet  again,  it  rang  across  the  waters, 
and  in  the  distance,  flying  at  incredible  speed, 
I  saw  the  rainbow  host  of  fatu-livas  coming 
towards  us! 

Gallant  fowl!  Shall  I  ever  forget  how  they 
circled  about  us.  One  of  their  clan,  as  they  sup 
posed,  was  in  dire  danger  and  they  functioned  as 
only  a  fatu-liva  can.  Flying  at  an  immense 
height,  in  battle  formation,  they  began  laying 
eggs  with  marvelous  precision.  The  first  two 
struck  the  wak-wak  square  on  the  nose  and  he 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      87 

screamed  with  pain.  The  third,  landing  corner- 
wise,  put  out  his  right  eye  and  he  began  to  thrash 
in  helpless  circles.  The  fourth  was  a  direct  hit  on 
my  left  temple.  "Face-of-the-Moon"  passed  over 
the  horizon  into  oblivion  whence  he  emerged  to 
find  himself  in  a  tree,  his  brow  eased  with  an 
alova-leaf  poultice,  his  heart  comforted  by  Daugh 
ter  of  Pearl  and  Coral. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Excursions  beyond  the  outer  reef.  Our  aquatic 
wives.  Premonitions.  A  picnic  on  the  moun 
tain.  Hearts  and  floicers.  Whinney  delivers  a 
geological  dissertation.  Babai  finds  a  fatu-liva 
nest.  The  strange  flower  in  my  wife's  hair. 


CHAPTER  VII 

As  I  look  back  on  the  months  which  followed  I 
can  truthfully  say  that  they  were  the  happiest 
of  my  existence.  The  semi-detachment  of  our 
island  domesticity  was  a  charm  against  tedium; 
our  family  reunions  were  joys. 

Often  we  organized  picnics  to  distant  points. 
With  hold-alls  of  panjandrus  leaves  packed  with 
a  supply  of  breadfruit  sandwiches,  sun-baked 
cuttywink  eggs  and  a  gallon  or  two  of  hoopa, 
we  would  go  to  one  of  the  lovely  retreats  with 
which  our  wives  were  familiar. 

Occasionally  we  sailed  in  the  Kawa,  at  which 
times  the  intrepid  Triplett  accompanied  us.  Re 
membering  those  happy  times  I  now  realize  that 
his  presence  cast  the  only  shadow  across  the  bright 
sunlight  of  our  days.  Why  this  was  I  could  not 
have  said, — indeed  I  should  have  probably  denied 
that  it  was  so,  yet  the  fact  remains  that  on  some 

91 


92      THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

of  our  excursions  to  neighboring  islands,  when, 
having  pulled  back  the  terrestrial  cork  of  the  atoll, 
we  had  eased  our  tight  little  craft  into  the  outer 
waters,  I  experienced  a  distinct  dorsal  chill. 

Both  Kippiputuonaa  and  Lupoba-Tilaana  felt 
this  to  a  marked  degree,  but  most  of  all  was  it 
apparent  in  its  affect  on  Mrs.  Whinney  whose 
maiden  name,  Babai-Alova-babai  (Triple  extract 
of  Alova),  only  faintly  describes  the  intoxicating 
fragrance  of  her  beauty. 

'Tiplette,  naue  aata  b'nau  boti!"  she  used  to  cry. 
"Do  not  let  Triplett  go  in  the  boat." 

The  old  man  was  insistent.  He  had  worked 
William  Henry  Thomas  to  exhaustion  rerigging 
the  craft  and  then  thrust  him  out,  bag  and  baggage. 
But  I  must  admit  that  between  them  they  had 
done  a  good  job.  William  Henry  and  his  bride 
took  up  lodgings  in  a  tall  tree  near  the  lagoon 
whence  they  used  mournfully  to  regard  the  floating 
home  in  which  they  had  spent  their  unhallowed 
honeymoon.  When  we  actually  began  to  sail  her 
the  William  Henry  Thomases  disappeared  from 
view  as  if  the  sight  were  too  much  for  them,  and 
we  seldom  saw  them  thereafter. 

Triplett's  ingenuity  was  responsible  for  the 
bamboo  mast,  woven  paa-paa  sail  and  the  new 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA       93 

yard-arm,  which,  in  the  absence  of  a  universal 
joint  was  cleverly  fashioned  of  braided  era-era. 

On  our  cruises  our  wives  spent  a  large  part  of 
their  time  overboard,  sporting  about  the  ship  like 
porpoises,  ever  and  anon  diving  deep  under  our 
counter  only  to  appear  on  the  other  side  decked 
with  polyp  buds  as  if  crowned  by  Neptune 
himself.  At  this  game  Babai-Alova-Babai  ex 
celled.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  day  she  suddenly 
popped  up  close  alongside  and  playfully  tossed  a 
magnificent  pearl  into  Triplett's  lap. 

But,  as  I  say,  I  did  not  feel  at  ease.  Perhaps 
it  was  my  experience  with  the  wak-waks, — per 
haps, — however,  I  anticipate. 

Our  merriest  jaunts  were  nearer  home.  Most 
memorable  of  all  was  our  first  trip  to  the  mountain, 
that  gorgeous  pile  on  the  center  of  the  lagoon. 

It  was  early  morning  when  we  set  out,  disdaining 
our  trim  "Tree-with-Wings"  from  the  deck  of 
which  Triplett  watched  our  short  three-mile  swim 
across  the  still  water.  At  every  stroke  flocks  of 
iridescent  dew-fish  rose  about  us  uttering  their 
brittle  note,  "Klicketty-inkle!  Klicketty-inkle!"* 

We  were  all  wearing  the  native  costume  and 

*  One  of  the  pleasantest  sights  imaginable  is  that  of  the  natives  gathering 
these  little  creatures  as  they  rise  to  the  surface  at  dawn.  The  dew-fish  or 
kali-toa  are  similar  to  our  white-bait,  but  much  whiter.  W.E.T. 


GOLDEN  HARMONIES 

This  was  the  sort  of  thing  that  greeted  the  intrepid  explorers  of  the  Kawa 
when  they  made  their  first  tour  of  the  island  and  were  entertained  by  the 
entrancing  inhabitants  of  the  women's  compound.  The  two  performers  are 
respectively  Lupoba-Tilaana  and  Baibai-Alova-Baibai.  It  was  only  after 
much  persusasion  that  they  agreed  to  be  photographed  but,  when  finally 
posed  to  Mr.  Whinney's  satisfaction,  they  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  oc 
casion  by  bursting  into  the  national  anthem  of  Love,  which  is  described  in 
Chapter  II.  The  instruments  are  the  bombi,  a  hollow  section  of  rapiti-wood 
covered  with  fish  membrane,  and  the  lonkila,  a  stringed  instrument  of  most 
plaintive  and  persuasive  tone.  These  two  instruments*  with  the  addition  of 
the  bazoota,  a  wood-wind  affair  made  from  papoo  reeds,  make  up  the  simple 
orchestral  equipment  of  the  Filberts. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      95 

Swank,  I  remember,  caught  his  rigolo  on  a  coral 
branch  and  delayed  us  five  minutes.  But  we  were 
soon  on  the  inner  beach  laughing  over  the  in 
cident  while  Babai  made  repairs. 

The  path  up  the  mountain  led  through  a  paradise 
of  tropical  wonders.  On  this  trip  Whinney  was 
easily  the  star,  his  scientific  knowledge  enabling 
him  to  point  out  countless  marvels  which  we  might 
not  otherwise  have  seen.  As  he  talked  I  made 
rapid  notes. 

"Look,"  he  said,  holding  up  an  exquiste  rose- 
colored  reptile.  "The  tritulus  annularis  or  pink 
garter  snake!  Almost  unheard  of  in  the  tropics." 

Kippy  insisted  on  tying  it  around  her  shapely 
limb.  Then,  of  course,  Babai  must  have  one,  too, 
and  great  were  our  exertions  before  we  bagged  an 
additional  pair  for  our  loved  ones. 

Thus  sporting  on  our  way,  crowned  with  alova 
and  girdled  with  tontoni  (a  gorgeous  type  of 
flannel-mouthed  snapdragon  which  kept  all  man 
ner  of  insects  at  bay),  we  wound  toward  the 
summit,  stopping  ever  and  anon  to  admire  the 
cliffs  of  mother-of-pearl,  sheer  pages  of  colorful 
history  thrown  up  long  ago  by  some  primeval 
illness  of  mother  earth. 

Swank   was   so   intoxicated   by   it   all    that   I 


96       THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

made  almost  the  only  break  of  our  island  experi 
ence. 

"You've  been  drinking,"  I  accused. 

"You  lie,"  he  answered  hotly,  "it's  these  colors! 
Wow-wow!  Osky-wow-wow!  Skinny  wow-wow 
Illinois!" 

"Oh,  shut  up!"  I  remonstrated,  when  I  saw 
Tilaana  advancing  toward  me,  fluttering  her 
taa-taa  in  the  same  menacing  way  in  which  Kippy 
had  attacked  the  wak-wak. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said.  "I  was  wrong.  I 
apologize." 

We  stood  in  a  circle  and  chinned  each  other  until 
peace  was  restored. 

The  view  from  the  summit  was,  as  authors  say, 
indescribable.  Nevertheless  I  shall  describe  it,  or 
rather  I  shall  quote  Whinney  who  at  this  moment 
reached  his  highest  point.  We  were  then  about 
three  thousand  feet  above  sea-level. 

I  wish  I  could  give  his  address  as  it  was  de 
livered,  in  Filbertese,  but  I  fear  that  my  readers 
would  skip,  a  form  of  literary  exercise  which  I 
detest. 

Try  for  a  moment  to  hold  the  picture;  our  little 
group  standing  on  the  very  crest  of  the  mountain 
as  if  about  to  sing  the  final  chorus  of  the  Creation 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA       97 

to  an  audience  of  islands.  Far-flung  they  stretched, 
these  jeweled  confections,  while  below,  almost  at 
our  very  feet,  we  could  see  the  Kawa  and  Triplett, 
a  tiny  speck,  frantically  waving  his  yard-arm! 
Even  at  three  thousand  feet  he  gave  me  a  chill.  .  .  . 
But  let  Whinney  speak. 

"It  is  plain,"  he  said,  "that  the  basalt  monadnock 
on  which  we  stand  is  a  carboniferous  upthrust  of 
metamorphosed  schists,  shales  and  conglomorate, 
probably  Mesozoic  or  at  least  early  Silurian." 

At  this  point  our  wives  burst  into  laughter.  In 
fact,  their  attitude  throughout  was  trying  but 
Whinney  bravely  proceeded. 

"You  doubtless  noticed  on  the  shore  that  the 
deep-lying  metamorphic  crystals  have  been  exposed 
by  erosion,  leaving  on  the  upper  levels  faulted 
strata  of  tilted  lava-sheets  interstratified  with 
pudding-stone." 

"We  have!"  shouted  Swank. 

"Evidently  then,"  continued  the  professor,  "the 
atoll  is  simply  an  annular  terminal  moraine  of 
detritus  shed  alluvially  into  the  sea,  thus  leaving 
a  geosyncline  of  volcanic  ash  embedded  with  an 
occasional  trilobite  and  the  fragments  of  scoria, 
upon  which  we  now  stand." 

We  gave  WTiinney  a  long  cheer  with  nine  Yales 


WILLIAM  HENRY  THOMAS 

Of  all  the  members  of  the  now  famous  cruise  of  the  Kawa  into  hitherto  un 
charted  waters  it  is  doubtful  if  any  one  entered  so  fully  into  the  spirit  of 
adventure  as  the  silent  fore-mast  hand  whose  portrait  faces  this  text.  It 
was  he  who  first  adopted  native  costume.  The  day  after  landing  in  the 
Filberts  he  was  photographed  as  we  see  him  wearing  a  native  wreath  of 
nabiscus  blooms  and  having  discarded  shoes.  Every  day  he  discarded  some 
article  of  raiment.  It  was  he  who  first  took  unto  himself  an  island  mate. 
It  was  he  who  ultimately  abandoned  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  his  home  and 
country  again,  electing  rather  to  remain  among  his  new-found  people  with  his 
new-found  love  and  his  new-found  name,  Fatakahala  (Flower  of  Darkness). 
Truly,  strange  flowers  of  fancy  blossom  in  the  depths  of  the  New  England 
character.  It  is  reported  that  he  has  lately  been  elected  King  of  the  Filberts. 


William  Henry  Thomas 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA      99 

at  the  close  to  cover  the  laughter  of  the  women, 
for  the  discourse  was  really  superb.  In  English 
its  melodic  charm  is  lost,  but  you  must  admit  that 
for  an  indescribable  thing  it  is  a  very  fine  descrip 
tion. 

After  several  days  of  idyllic  life  in  our  mountain 
paradise  we  felt  the  returning  urge  of  our  various 
ambitions. 

"Kippy,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "I  think  we  ought  to 
be  going." 

Sweet  soul  that  she  was!  that  they  all  were,  these 
beautiful  women  of  ours!  Anything  we  proposed 
was  agreeable  to  them.  As  we  trooped  down  the 
mountain  singing,  our  merry  chorus  shook  the  forest 
glades  and  literally  brought  down  the  cocoanuts. 

Whinney  was  not  alone  in  his  scientific  dis 
coveries  for  on  the  return  trip  Babai  suddenly 
gave  a  cry  of  delight  and  the  next  instant  had 
climbed  with  amazing  agility  to  the  top  of  a 
towering  palm  whence  she  returned  bearing  a 
semi-spheric  bowl  of  closely  woven  grass  in  which 
lay  four  snow-white,  polka-dotted  cubes,  the 
marvelous  square  eggs  of  the  fatu-liva! 

"Kopaa  kopitaa  aue!"  she  cried.  "Hide  them. 
Quickly,  away!" 

I  knew  the  danger,  of  which  my  temple  still 


100     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

bore  the  scar.  Concealing  our  find  under  our 
taa-taa  we  scraped  and  slid  over  the  faulted  and 
tilted  strata  to  which  Whinney  had  referred  until 
we  reached  the  beach.  High  above  us  I  could 
hear  the  anguished  cry  of  the  mother  fatu-liva 
vainly  seeking  her  ravished  home  and  potential 
family. 

The  marking  of  the  eggs  is  most  curious  and 
Whinney  took  a  photograph  of  them  (facing  page 
124)  when  we  reached  the  yawl.  It  is  an  excellent 
picture  though  Whinney,  with  the  captiousness 
of  the  scientist,  claims  that  one  of  the  eggs 
moved. 

Just  before  we  left  the  mountain  beach  my  own 
radiant  Daughter  of  Pearl  and  Coral  made  a  dis 
covery  which  in  the  light  of  after  events  was 
destined  to  play  an  important  part  in  our  ad 
ventures.  Kippiputuona,  my  own  true  mate, 
there  is  something  ironically  tragic  in  the  thought 
that  the  simple  blue  flower  which  you  plucked  so 
carelessly  from  the  cliff  edge  and  thrust  into  your 
hair  would  some  day — but  again,  I  anticipate. 

We  had  reached  the  yawl,  which  we  made  a  sort 
of  half-way  house  and  were  chatting  with  Captain 
Triplett.  Whinney  was  repeating  parts  of  his 
talk  and  I  noticed  that  Triplett's  attention  was 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAW^A  ;  OOl 

wandering.  His  eye  was  firmly  fixed  on  the  flower 
in  Kippy's  hair.  That  called  my  attention  to  it 
and  I  saw  that  whenever  my  wife  turned  her  head 
the  blossom  of  the  flower  slowly  turned  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

Suddenly  Triplett  interrupted  Whinney  to  say 
in  a  rather  shaky  voice,  "Mrs.  Traprock,  if  you 
please,  would  you  mind  facin'  a-stern." 

I  motioned  to  Kippy  to  obey,  which  she  would 
have  done  anyway. 

"An5  now,"  said  the  Captain,  "kindly  face 
forrard." 

Same  business. 

The  flower  slowly  turned  on  Kippy's  head! 

Stretching  forth  a  trembling  hand,  Triplett 
plucked  the  blossom  from  Kippy's  hair! 

You  can  only  imagine  the  commotion  which  en 
sued  when  I  tell  you  that,  in  the  Filberts,  for  a  man 
to  pluck  a  flower  from  a  woman's  hair  means  only 
one  thing.  Poor  Kippy  was  torn  between  love 
of  me  and  what  she  thought  was  duty  to  my  chief. 
I  had  a  most  difficult  time  explaining  to  her  that 
Triplett  meant  absolutely  nothing  by  his  action, 
a  statement  which  he  corroborated  by  all  sorts  of 
absurd  "I  don't  care,"  gestures — but  he  clung  to 
the  flower. 


SE  OF  THE  KAWA 


An  hour  later  when  we  had  escorted  the  ladies 
safely  to  their  compound,  I  paddled  back  to  the 
yawl.  Peering  through  the  port-hole  I  could  see 
Triplett  by  the  light  of  a  phosphorous  dip  working 
on  a  rude  diagram;  at  his  elbow  was  the  blue 
flower  in  a  puta-shell  of  water. 

"Triplett,"  I  asked  sternly,  as  I  stood  beside 
him  an  instant  later,  "what  is  that  flowery9 

"That,"  said  Triplett,  "is  a  compass-plant." 

"And  what  is  a  compass-plant?" 

"A  compass-plant,"  said  Triplett,  "is  -  ," 
but  for  the  third  and  last  time,  I  anticipate. 

I  must  get  over  that  habit. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Swank's  popularity  on  the  island.  Whinney's 
jealousy.  An  artistic  duel.  Whinney's  deplor 
able  condition.  An  assembly  of  the  Archipelago. 
Water-sports  on  the  reef.  The  Judgment. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHINNEY  and  I  were  surprised  to  find  that  the 
islanders  took  Swank  more  seriously  than  they  did 
either  of  us.  Of  course,  since  the  Kawas  forcible 
entry  into  the  atoll  premier  honors  were  Triplett's, 
but  Swank  was  easily  second. 

The  curious  reason  was  that  his  pictures  appealed. 
I  think  I  have  indicated  that  Swank  was  ultra 
modern  in  his  tendencies.  "Artless  art,"  was  his 
formula,  often  expressed  by  his  slogan — "A  bas 
I'objectif!  Vive  le  subjonctif."  Whatever  that 
means,  he  scored  with  the  Filbertines  who  would 
gather  in  immense  numbers  wherever  he  set  up 
his  easel. 

This  was  due  in  part  to  his  habit  of  standing 
with  his  back  to  the  scene  which  he  proposed  to 
paint  and,  bending  over  until  his  head  almost 
touched  the  ground,  peering  at  the  landscape 
between  his  outspread  legs. 

105 


106     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

"It  intensifies  the  color,"  he  explained.  "Try 
it." 

Baahaabaa  bestowed  a  title  on  our  artist — 
"Maimaue  Ahiiahi" — "Tattooer  of  Rainbows" — 
by  which  he  was  loudly  acclaimed.  Whinney  and  I 
used  to  sing,  "He's  always  tattooing  rainbows!" 
but  artistic  vanity  was  proof  against  such  bour 
geoisie. 

Baahaabaa  was  tireless  in  suggesting  new  sub 
jects  for  him  to  paint.  One  day  it  would  be 
a  performance  of  the  Ataboi,  the  languorously 
sensuous  dance  which  we  had  first  seen  in  the 
women's  compound;  again  he  would  stage  a  scene 
of  feasting,  at  which  the  men  passed  foaming  shells 
of  hoopa  from  hand  to  hand.  A  difficulty  was 
that  of  preventing  the  artist  from  quitting  work 
and  joining  his  models  which  Swank  always 
justified  by  saying  that  the  greatest  art  resulted 
from  submerging  oneself  with  one's  subject. 

"Look  at  Gaugin!"  he  used  to  say. 

"But  I  don't  like  to  look  at  Gaugin,"  I  re 
monstrated. 

Whinney  foolishly  tried  to  compete  with  Swank 
by  means  of  his  camera — foolishly,  I  say,  though 
the  result  was  one  of  the  finest  spectacles  I  have 
ever  witnessed. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     107 

For  days  Whinney  had  been  stalking  Swank, 
photographing  everything  he  painted.  In  a  dark 
room  of  closely  woven  panjandrus  leaves  the  films 
were  developed  and  a  proof  rushed  off  to  Baahaa- 
baa  long  before  the  artist  had  finished  his  picture. 

This  naturally  irritated  Swank  and  he  finally 
challenged  the  scientist  to  mortal  combat,  an 
artistic  duel,  camera  against  brush,  lens  against 
eye. 

When  the  details  were  explained  to  Baahaabaa, 
he  was  in  a  frenzy  of  excitement.  As  judge,  his 
decision  was  to  be  final,  which  should  have  warned 
Whinney,  who,  as  the  challenged  party,  had  the 
right  to  select  the  subject.  His  choice  was 
distinctly  artful. 

"I  think  I've  got  him!"  he  confided.  "We're 
to  do  the  'lagoon  at  dawn.'  You  know  what  that 
means?  Everything's  gray  and  I  can  beat  him 
a  mile  on  gray;  secondly,  there  won't  be  a  gang  of 
people  around,  and,  thirdly,  Swank  simply  loathes 
getting  up  early.  They're  all  alike,  these  artists; 
any  effort  before  noon  is  torture!" 

"All  right,"  said  Swank,  when  I  explained  the 
conditions,  "I  won't  go  to  bed  at  all." 

When  the  rivals  showed  up  on  the  beach  at  the 
appointed  time  I  regret  to  say  that  Swank  was  not 


THE  LAGOON  AT  DAWN 

(Whinney's  Version) 

What  the  camera  can  do  in  interpreting  the  subtle  values  of  a  delicate 
color  scheme  is  here  shown  in  the  prize  photograph  submitted  by  Reginald 
Whinney  in  the  great  competition  presided  over  by  Chief  Baahaabaa.  It  is 
rare  indeed  to  find  a  beach  in  the  Filbert  Islands  so  deserted.  An  hour  after 
this  photograph  was  taken  more  than  three  thousand  natives  were  as 
sembled  to  witness  the  judging  of  the  exhibits.  In  the  small  hours  of  night, 
the  entire  strand  is  covered  with  pita-oolas>  or  giant  land-crabs,  about  the 
size  of  manhole  covers,  who  crawl  inland  to  cut  down  the  palm  trees  with 
which  they  build  their  nests.  An  examination  of  the  picture  with  a  power 
ful  microscope  will  reveal  the  presence  on  the  surface  of  the  water  of  millions 
of  dew-fish  enjoying  their  brief  interval  of  day  and  dew. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     109 

himself.  He  had  spent  the  night  with  Baahaabaa 
and  Hitoia-Upa,  who  supported  him  on  either 
side,  and  balanced  him  precariously  on  his  sketch 
ing-stool  where  he  promptly  fell  asleep.  In  the 
meantime  Whinney  was  dodging  about  with  his 
camera,  squinting  in  the  finder,  without  finding 
anything — one  never  does — peering  at  the  bright 
ening  sky,  holding  his  thumb  at  arm's  length,* 
in  a  word  going  through  all  the  artistic  motions 
which  should  have  been  Swank's.  The  latter 
finally  aroused  himself  and  laboriously  got  onto 
all  fours,  looking  like  a  dromedary  about  to  lie 
down,  from  which  position  he  contemplated  the 
sunrise  for  several  minutes  and  then  began  to 
fumble  in  his  painting  box. 

"Ver'  funny — ver'  funny,"  he  crooned,  "forgot 
my  brushes." 

"Let  me  get  them  for  you,"  I  suggested. 

He  waived  me  aside.     "Gimme  air." 

Whinney's  shutter  was  now  clicking  indus 
triously.  He  had  decided  to  use  an  entire  film, 
and  submit  the  picture  which  came  out  best. 
Swank  was  gradually  covering  his  canvas  by 
squeezing  the  paint  directly  from  the  tubes,  a 

*  In  Southern  Peru  the  same  gesture  used  to  signify  contempt  and  de 
rision. 


110    THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

method  which  has  since  been  copied  by  many 
others — the  "Tubistes"  so  called.  Every  few 
moments  he  would  lurch  forward  and  press  his  nose 
against  the  canvas,  once  falling  flat  on  his  master 
piece,  most  of  which  was  transferred  to  his  chest. 
But  he  persevered. 

Whinney  by  this  time  had  retired  to  his  dark 
room;  Baahaabaa  and  Hitoia-Upa  snored;  Swank 
worked  and  I,  from  a  near-by  knoll,  watched  the 
miracle  of  a  tropical  dawn. 

It  was  a  scene  of  infinite  calm,  low  in  color- 
key,  peaceful  in  composition,  the  curve  of  purple 
and  lavender  beach  unbroken,  the  crest  of  dark 
palms  unmoved,  "like  a  Turk  verse  along  a  scimi 
tar."  The  waters  of  the  lagoon,  a  mirror  of 
molten  amber,  reflected  the  soft  hues  of  the  sky 
from  which  the  trailing  garments  of  night  were 
gradually  withdrawn  before  his  majesty,  the 
Day. 

Swank  only  allowed  himself  the  use  of  the  three 
primary  colors — consequently  his  rendering  of  the 
opalescent  beauty  of  this  particular  dawn  was 
somewhat  beyond  me. 

Where  I  saw  the  glowing  promise  of  color  rather 
than  color  itself,  Swank  saw  red.  Where  I  felt 
the  hushed  presence  of  dawn  "like  a  pilgrim  clad/* 


-THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     111 

Swank  vibrated  to  the  harmonies  of  pure  pigment, 
the  full  brass  of  a  tonal  orchestra. 

Of  a  sudden  his  color  hypnotism  transported  him. 

"Eee — yow!"  he  howled,  brandishing  a  handful 
of  Naples  yellow  mixed  with  coral  which  he  hurled 
at  the  canvas.  "Zow!  Bam!  Ooh,  la  la!"  His 
shrieks  roused  his  escorts  and  brought  a  rapidly 
swelling  crowd  to  the  dune,  where,  to  the  sound 
of  his  own  ravings  and  the  plaudits  of  the  specta 
tors,  he  finished  his  masterpiece. 

Late  afternoon  of  the  same  day  was  the  hour 
agreed  upon  for  the  Judgment.  Baahaabaa  had 
sent  invitations  by  express  swimmers  to  all  the 
near-by  islands.  He  invited  the  entire  archi 
pelago. 

The  picture  of  their  approach  was  interesting. 
Kippy  haled  me  to  the  top  of  a  tall  tree  whence  we 
watched  the  convergant  argosies,  hundreds  of  tiny 
specks  each  bearing  an  outspread  taa-taa  of 
gleaming  leaves.  It  was  as  if  Birnam  Wood  had 
gone  yachting. 

"Tapa  nui  ekilana  lohoo-a"  chanted  my  mate. 

Following  her  outstreched  hand  I  discerned  a 
group  of  taa-taas,  arranged  in  wedge  formation,  the 
enclosing  sides  being  formed  by  swimmers  carrying 
a,  web  of  woven  haro,  in  the  center  of  which  re- 


THE  LAGOON  AT  DAWN 

(Swank's  Version) 

An  interesting  example  of  the  way  in  which  the  mind  of  a  painter  works  will 
be  found  in  this  reproduction  of  the  masterpiece  created  by  Herman  Swank 
in  competition  with  the  photograph  shown  facing  page  108.  Both  camera 
and  painter  were  to  reproduce  the  same  subject,  yet  how  differently  they 
reacted  to  it.  In  the  beauty  of  nature  about  him  it  is  evident  that  the  great 
artist  felt  only  the  dominant  feature  of  island  life,  the  glorious,  untrammeled 
womanhood  of  the  South  Seas.  The  wild  abandon,  the  primitive  gesture  of 
modesty,  the  eyes  of  adoration — symbolically  expressed  as  detached  en 
tities  floating  about  the  loved  one — all  are  present  in  this  remarkable  picture. 
Thus  expressed,  too,  we  may  find  the  ever-present  ocean,  the  waving  palms 
and,  if  we  seek  carefully,  the  Kawa  herself,  scudding  before  the  trade  wind. 
Truly  may  this  be  called,  a3  the  artist  prefers,  the  Venus  of  Polynesia. 


The  Lagoon  at  Dawn  (Swank's  Version) 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     113 

posed  a  visiting  chief  with  three  or  four  of  his 
wives. 

By  four  o'clock  the  beach  was  thronged  with 
thousands  of  gleaming  bodies.  Festivity  and  re 
joicing  were  in  every  eye.  Shouts  of  welcome, 
bursts  of  laughter,  and  the  resounding  slap  of 
friendly  hand  on  visiting  hip  or  shoulder,  the 
dignified  welcome  of  the  chiefs,  cries  of  children, 
dances  and  games,  myriad  details  of  social  amity — 
all  presented  a  picture  of  unspoiled  Polynesia 
such  as  is  found  in  the  Filberts  alone.  When  I 
forget  it,  may  I  be  forgot. 

Of  course  Swank,  Whinney  and  I  were  objects 
of  much  curiosity — and  admiration.  Hundreds 
of  times  my  radiant  Daughter  of  Pearl  and  Coral 
repeated: 

"Ahoa  tarumea  —  Kapatooi  Naani-Tui"  —  "I 
should  like  to  make  you  acquainted  with  my 
husband,  Face-of-the-Moon." 

Hundreds  of  times  did  I  press  my  chin  against 
soft  ears  and  submit  to  the  same  gentle  greeting. 
Hundreds  of  times  did  I  raise  the  welcoming 
hoopa-shell  with  the  usual  salutation — "Lomi- 
lomi," — "May  you  live  for  a  thousand  years  and 
grow  to  enormous  size." 

In  a  rest  period  Kippy  and  I  swam  to  the  reef 


114    THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

where  the  younger  set  were  sporting  among  the 
coral,  diving  for  pearls  which  rolled  on  the  purple 
floor.  As  I  think  now  of  the  value  of  those  milky 
globes,  the  size  of  gooseberries,  I  marvel  that  not 
a  thought  of  covetousness  crossed  my  mind.  What 
were  pearls  to  us? 

"Catch!"  cried  Kippy,  and  threw  a  fish-skin 
beauty  in  my  direction.  I  admired  its  lustre  for 
an  instant  and  its  perfect  roundness  acquired  from 
the  incessant  rolling  of  the  tides — then  carelessly 
tossed  it  back.  It  slipped  between  Kippy's  fingers. 

"I'll  get  it,"  I  cried,  making  ready  to  dive,  but 
she  shouted  a  warning. 

"Arani  electi.  Oki  Kutiaa!"— "Look  out!  The 
snapping  oysters!" 

Gazing  down  through  the  crystal  depths  into 
which  our  bauble  had  fallen  I  saw  a  great  gaping 
kutiaa,  the  fiercest  of  Crustacea,  its  shelly  mouth 
slightly  ajar,  waiting  for  the  careless  hand  or  foot 
that  might  come  within  its  grasp.  We  let  the 
pearl  go  and  amused  ourselves  by  sucking  the 
eggs  of  the  liho,  a  bland-faced  bird  which  makes  its 
nest  in  the  surface  coral  branches.*  Here,  too,  we 
laughed  over  the  ridiculous  ratatia,  that  grotesque 

"The  liho  is  in  many  respects  the  most  remarkable  fowl  in  existence.  It 
is  of  the  gattinaris  or  hen-family  crossed  with  the  male  shad  which  causes 
the  bird  to  produce  eggs  in  unheard  of  quantity. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     115 

amphibian  who  is  built  like  a  ferry-boat,  with  a 
head  at  either  end  and  swivel  fins  so  that  however 
he  may  move  he  is  always  going  forward. 

From  these  diversions  the  sound  of  singing  sum 
moned  us.  The  Judgment  was  about  to  take  place. 
At  top  speed  we  swam  ashore  and  joined  the  crowd. 
For  once  I  was  glad  that  literature  had  no  place  in 
the  competition,  so  that  Kippy  and  I  were  free 
to  watch  the  proceedings. 

Years  ago  I  saw  the  ceremonial  by  which  the 
British  Government  conferred  on  the  Bahia  of 
Persia  the  title  of  "The  Bab  of  Babs,"  but  it  was 
nothing  compared  to  what  I  now  gazed  upon. 

As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  stretched  the 
crowd.  Under  a  gorgeous  dais  of  panjandrus 
leaves  respendent  with  alova  blossoms  sat  Baa- 
haabaa,  on  his  right  Captain  Triplett,  on  his  left 
Hanuhonu,  the  ranking  visitor,  and  all  about 
retinues  of  nobles,  with  their  superb  families, 
groups  of  dancers,  slim  and  straight  as  golden 
birches,  singers,  orators  and  athletes.  It  was 
grand  opera  on  a  titanic  scale,  with  the  added 
distinction  of  really  meaning  something. 

Baahaabaa  spoke  first — in  fact  I  think  I  may  say 
that  he  spoke  first,  last  and  all  the  time.  I  can 
conscientiously  claim  that  he  is  the  champion  long- 


116     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

distance  orator  of  the  world.  Ever  and  anon  he 
gave  way  to  a  guest  but  only  for  a  moment. 

"We  are  met,"  he  said — I  translate  freely — 
"we  are  met  to  witness  the  emulation  of  friends." 
Could  anything  be  more  delicate? 

"We  have  with  us  tonight,  in  this  corner, 
Wanooa-Potonopoa  (Whinney),  the  Man  with  his 
Eye  in  a  Box"  (this  was  plainly  a  reference  to 
Whinney's  camera) — while  in  this  corner,  we  have 
Mainaue  Ahiiahi,  Tattooer-of-Rainbows.  Both 
boys  are  members  of  this  island." 

The  applause  was  enormous  but  Swank  had  the 
grace  to  rise  and  kiss  his  finger-tips  toward  the 
audience  which  immediately  put  him  on  a  friendly 
footing. 

After  a  few  more  speeches  by  Baahaabaa  the 
exhibits  were  unveiled.  Of  course,  the  result  was 
foregone.  I  must  admit  that  Whinney's  was  not 
hung  to  advantage.  The  two  pictures  were  placed 
against  tufts  of  haro  at  forty  yards  distance  where, 
naturally,  the  detail  of  the  photograph  lost  some 
thing  of  its  effectiveness.  Swank's  picture  on  the 
contrary  blazed  like  a  pin- wheel.  The  further 
you  got  from  it  the  better  it  looked. 

A  characteristic  point  in  the  competition  was 
that  Swank  had  introduced  figures  into  his  com- 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     117 

position  where  no  figures  had  existed.  "What  do 
I  care?"  he  said  to  my  objection.  "I  was  there, 
wasn't  I?  And  you  were  there?  There  may  have 
been  others." 

A  mighty  roar  followed  the  unveiling,  a  shout  of 
such  force  that  tons  of  breadfruit  and  thousands  of 
cocoanuts  fell  from  the  adjacent  trees.  But  it  was 
plain  to  see  whom  the  shouting  was  for.  Then 
Baahaabaa  made  the  awards  and — the  prizes  were 
identical — two  royal  rigolos  of  mother-of-pearl, 
elaborately  trimmed  with  corals  and  pendants  of 
limpid  aquamarine.  What  tact,  what  grace  and 
charm  in  these  identical  rewards! 

I  am  fortunate  in  being  able  to  reproduce  both 
masterpieces,  so  that  my  readers  may  form  their 
own  decision.  Personally,  WTiinney's  photograph 
seems  to  me  to  reproduce  more  completely  my 
memories  of  "The  Lagoon  at  Dawn."  But  I  may 
be  wrong.  Modern  artists  will  probably  back  up 
the  popular  judgment  and  on  that  memorable  day 
in  the  Filberts  I  would  certainly  have  been  in  the 
minority. 


CHAPTER  IX 

More  premonitions.  Triplett's  curious  behavior.  A 
call  from  Baahaabaa.  We  visit  William  Henry 
Thomas.  His  bride.  The  christening.  A  hide 
ous  discovery.  Pros  and  cons.  Our  heart-break 
ing  decision.  A  stirrup-cup  of  lava-lava. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  two  weeks  after  the  great  Competition 
before  the  celebrations  which  followed  it  termi 
nated,  the  tumult  and  the  shouting  died,  and  the 
last  of  our  amiable  visitors  paddled  homeward, 
some  being  towed  by  new-found  wives,  while  not 
a  few  remained  in  our  own  community,  infusing  our 
society  with  the  novelty  and  fresh  gossip  of  their 
islands.  Little  by  little  we  settled  back  into  do 
mestic  quiet. 

A  blithe  incident  enlivened  that  peaceful  period, 
preceding  tragic  events  which  must  be  told  in  their 
proper  place. 

On  the  fairest  of  tropical  mornings  Kippy  and  I 
heard  a  gentle  tapping  at  the  trunk  of  our  tree  and, 
peering  over  the  floor,  saw  below  Baahaabaa,  his 
face  shining  with  happiness. 

"Katia?"  we  questioned,  but  he  was  mysterious 
and  led  us  quietly  to  the  trees  occupied  by  the 

121 


122    THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

Swanks,  the  Whinneys  and  finally  Triplett,  all 
of  whom  he  roused  as  he  had  us. 

"Katia?"  we  repeated. 

"Hoko,"  he  answered,  and  to  our  surprise,  again 
motioned  us  forward.  For  twenty  minutes  we 
threaded  a  forest  trail  in  which  still  lurked  the 
shadows  of  night.  At  a  giant  palm  tree  our  leader 
again  tapped  gently. 

Who  should  look  over  the  edge  of  the  densely 
screened  dwelling  but  William  Henry  Thomas! 

At  first  glimpse  of  us  he  hastily  drew  back  and 
I  heard  the  muttered  sound  of  old-fashioned,  New 
England  cursing.  Reassured  by  Baahaabaa,  how 
ever,  he  slid  down  to  join  us,  followed  by  his 
wife. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  really  seen  her 
and  I  must  say  that  I  was  completely  bowled  over 
by  the  sight.  Plainly  not  of  the  same  social  class  as 
the  beautiful  women  whom  Baahaabaa  had  selected 
for  us,  she  yet  possessed  an  eerie  charm  of  her  own 
which  instantly  stirred  strange  emotions  in  my 
breast.  I  heard  Swank  gasp  and  Whinney's  face 
was  white  and  drawn,  his  favorite  expression  when 
deeply  moved.  She  stood  close  to  her  husband, 
half -twined  about  him  with  the  grace  and  strength 
of  an  eva-eva  vine  while  her  kindling  eyes  burned 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     123 

questioningly,  her  lithe  body  tense  and  protective. 
"He  is  to  be  christened,"  said  Baahaabaa,  with  a 
magnificent  gesture  toward  William  Henry  Thomas. 

We  could  only  look  our  astonishment. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  chief,  smiling  benignly, 
"first  among  you  all  is  he  to  have  his  name  recorded 
hi  our  ancient  fashion." 

As  he  pronounced  these  words  Baahaabaa  lifted 
his  left  foot  solemnly  and  pointed  to  his  own  royal 
appellation  tattooed  on  the  sole.  Our  wives  did 
likewise. 

"What  is  his  name?"  Whinney  asked. 

William  Henry  Thomas's  head  rose  proudly  as 
his  wife  replied  in  thrilling,  woodland  tones,  "Fata- 
kahala." 

"Fatakahala!"  repeated  Baahaabaa,  "Flower  of 
Darkness,"  and  William  Henry  Thomas  raised  his 
head  as  high  as  it  would  go. 

"When  does  the  ceremony  take  place?"  asked 
Whinney.  Baahaabaa  pointed  to  the  distant  peak 
of  the  mountain. 

"Tonight.  Maka,  the  Tattooer,  is  ready;  the 
fishbones  are  sharpened;  the  juice  of  the  tupa- 
berries  fills  the  holy  shell.  We  go." 

All  that  day  we  strung  ceremonial  garlands 
about  the  base  of  the  mountain,  which,  with  its 


THE  NEST  OF  A  FATU-LIVA 

This  is  without  question  the  most  extraordinary  picture  which  has  ever 
been  taken  of  any  natural  history  subject.  It  corroborates  in  most  con 
vincing  manner  the  author's  claim  to  the  discovery  of  the  wonderful  fatu-liva 
bird  with  its  unique  gift  of  laying  square  eggs.  Here  we  see  the  eggs  them 
selves  in  all  the  beauty  of  their  cubical  form  and  quaint  marking;  here  we 
see  the  nest  itself,  made  of  delicately  woven  haro  and  brought  carefully  from 
the  tree's  summit  by  its  discoverer,  Babai-Alova-Babai.  An  extremely  in 
teresting  feature  of  the  picture  is  the  presence  in  the  nest  of  lapa  or  signal- 
feather.  By  close  observation,  Mr.  Whinney,  the  scientist  of  the  expedition, 
discovered  that  whenever  the  mother-bird  left  the  nest  in  search  of  food  she 
always  decorated  her  home  with  one  of  her  wing  feathers  which  served  as  a 
signal  to  her  mate  that  she  would  return  shortly,  which  she  invariably  did. 
Skeptics  have  said  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  lay  a  square  egg.  To 
which  the  author  is  justly  entitled  to  say:  "The  camera  never  lies.'* 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     125 

circumference  of  a  mile  and  three-quarters,  was  no 
small  task.  But  sunset  found  it  completed.  We 
supped  on  the  beach  and  at  nine,  under  a  rising 
moon,  climbed  toward  the  summit.  The  peak  was 
reserved  for  William  Henry  Thomas,  Maka  and  her 
four  attendants  who  bore  the  utensils  and  long 
ropes  of  eva-eva — "to  tie  him  with,"  whispered 
Baahaabaa. 

At  exactly  ten,  by  the  shadow  of  the  mountain 
on  the  atoll,  W7illiam  Henry  Thomas  stepped  forth 
into  the  moonlight  to  face  his  ordeal — alone. 

In  the  darkness  we  waited,  Kippy  clinging  close 
to  me.  Then  came  a  sound  at  which  I  could  but 
shudder.  It  was  a  giggle,  the  voice  plainly  that  of 
William  Henry  Thomas.  This  was  followed  by  a 
hysterical  sob  of  laughter. 

"The  christening  has  begun,"  murmured  Kippy. 

You  can  not  imagine  anything  more  horrible. 
Never  before  to  my  knowledge  had  William  Henry 
Thomas  laughed.  Now,  wilder  and  yet  more  wild 
rang  his  uncontrollable  mirth,  rising  at  times  to 
demoniac  screams,  anon  sinking  to  convulsive 
chuckles.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  it  was  in 
fectious. 

Conscious  though  we  were  of  the  poor  wrretch's 
suffering,  we  could  not  help  joining  his  vocal  ex- 


126     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

pression  of  it,  and  thus  we  sat,  in  the  darkness,  our 
peals  of  laughter  bursting  forth  at  every  fresh 
paroxysm.  Tears  of  distress  rolled  down  Swank's 
cheeks. 

An  hour  later  the  vines  parted  and  a  recumbent 
form  was  borne  gently  down  the  mountain; 
William  Henry  Thomas,  that  was,  his  new  name 
wrapped  in  soft  leaves  over  which  his  wife  sobbed 
in  tender  ecstasy. 

On  the  day  following  a  bolt  fell  from  the  blue. 

Swank  and  I  were  spending  the  afternoon  with 
Triplett  on  board  the  Kawa  where  the  captain  was 
explaining  the  workings  of  various  home-made 
navigating  instruments  which  he  had  manu 
factured. 

"This  here  is  a  astrolabe,"  he  said,  "jackass 
quadrant,  I  call  it."  He  displayed  a  sort  of  rudi 
mentary  crossbow.  "An'  this  here  is  a  perspective- 
glass,  kind  of  a  telescope,  see?  Made'er  bamboo. 
The  lenses  ain't  very  good;  had  to  use  fish-skin. 
Got  my  compass-plant  nicely  rooted  in  sand,  see — 
she's  doin'  fine." 

"What's  this  all  for?"    asked  Swank. 

Triplett  smiled  malevolently. 

"Don't  you  want  to  know  where  you  be?  I've 
got  it  all  figgered  out.  Got  a  chart,  too." 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     127 

He  unrolled  a  broad  leaf  on  which  he  had  drawn 
a  rough  sketch  of  the  island,  probable  north  and 
possible  latitude  and  longitude. 

Again  the  chill  of  dismay  and  apprehension 
which  I  had  felt  before  in  Triplett's  presence  ran 
up  and  down  my  spine.  It  was  beginning  to  dawn 
upon  me  that  Triplett  was  planning  a  get-away. 

"My  God!"  I  cried,  "take  that  thing  away!  What 
you  trying  to  do,  Triplett?  Hook  us  up  to  civiliza 
tion  with  all  its  deviltry  and  disease  and  damned 
conventions?  Don't  you  appreciate  the  beauty  of 
getting  outside  of  the  covers  of  a  geography?" 

The  old  devil  only  grinned,  his  very  leer  seeming 
to  say,  "I've  got  a  trump  card  up  my  sleeve, 
young  man." 

What  might  have  been  a  bitter  scene  was  in 
terrupted  by  something  much  more  serious. 

We  saw  Whinney  running  along  the  edge  of  the 
lagoon  into  which  he  presently  plunged  and  began 
swimming  madly  in  our  direction.  As  he  drew 
near  I  saw  that  he  was  deathly  white.  When  we 
dragged  him  over  the  rail  he  collapsed  in  the 
scuppers  and  burst  into  tears. 

"What  is  it?"  we  questioned. 

He  jerked  out  his  answer  in  hoarse,  broken  frag 
ments,  while  our  blood  froze. 


128     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

"It's  come.  ...  I  was  afraid  of  it.  ...  from 
the  first  .  .  .  it's  here  .  .  .  we've  done  it  ... 
we've  got  to  get  out  ...  it  is  not  fair  ..." 

"For  heaven's  sake,"  I  shouted.  "What's  here? 
What  have  we  done?" 

"Disease!"  he  panted.  "Disease!  You  know 
.  .  .  how  the  other  islands  .  .  .  Marquesas  .  .  . 
Solomons  .  .  .  Tongas  .  .  .  dying,  all  dying." 

His  voice  sank  and  he  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands,  shoulders  shaking. 

"What  .  .  .  what  is  it?    Who  has  it?" 

It  was  then  that  Whinney  made  the  supreme  call 
on  his  nerve,  stiffened  visibly  and  answered  in  a 
dead  voice,  "My  wife,  Babai-Alova-Babai,  has 
prickly-heat!" 

It  seemed  to  me  in  that  moment  that  the  entire 
atoll  revolved  rapidly  in  one  direction  while  the 
mountain  twirled  in  the  other.  Through  my  brain 
crashed  a  sequence  of  sickening  pictures,  the  lepers 
of  Molokai  with  their  hideous  affliction  imported 
from  China,  the  gaunt,  coughing  wrecks  of  Papeete, 
the  scarecrows  of  Samoa — and  now  this! 

And  Whinney  was  right.  We  had  done  it;  who 
individually,  I  know  not,  nor  cared,  but  collec 
tively  we  were  guilty.  Into  this  Eden,  this  Para 
dise  in  which  I  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  the  slight- 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     129 

est  ailment,  we,  the  prideful  whites,  had  brought 
this  deadly  thing! 

Should  we  remain,  I  dared  not  face  the  conse 
quences. 

"Is  it  ...  bad?"     I  managed  to  ask. 

"Pretty,"  moaned  poor  Whinney.  "Left  knee, 
small  of  back  .  .  .  spreading." 

"I'm  going  home,"  I  said.  "We'll  meet  here 
tomorrow  afternoon  at  the  same  time.  If  this 
thing  develops"  .  .  . 

I  finished  my  sentence  by  diving  overboard. 

Early  next  morning  I  knew  the  worst.  Daugh 
ter  of  Pearl  and  Coral  was  restless  during  the  night. 
When  the  sun  rose  a  single  glance  at  her  polished 
shoulders  and  my  heart  broke,  never  to  be  repaired. 
Folding  her  gently  in  my  arms,  I  trembled  in  a 
paroxysm  of  grief. 

We  spent  the  entire  day  together,  I  in  an  agony 
of  soul  which  I  could  not  quite  conceal  and  which 
my  beloved  tried  to  dispel  by  the  tenderest  tributes 
of  her  consuming  love.  I  cannot  speak  more  of 
what  lies  too  deeply  in  my  heart. 

It  was  a  tragic  trio  which  reassembled  on  the 
Kawas  deck  as  the  late  afternoon  sun  spread  its 
golden  hand  across  the  lagoon.  The  purple  shadow 
of  the  Mountain  rested  on  our  tiny  craft  but  a 


A  FLEDGLING  FATU-LIVA 

It  was  by  the  rarest  good  fortune  that  Dr.  Traprock  was  able  to  secure 
what  is  probably  the  only  living  specimen  now  in  captivity  of  the  hitherto 
unknown  fatu-liva  bird.  Immediately  upon  his  arrival  at  Papeete  efforts 
were  made  to  secure  a  mother  bird  of  any  kind  which  would  hatch  out  the 
four  fatu-liva  eggs  then  in  the  explorer's  possession.  Owing  to  their  angular 
and  uncomfortable  shape  it  was  found  impossible  to  keep  a  bird  brooding  for 
more  than  three  minutes  at  a  time.  After  much  effort  one  egg  was  finally 
hatched  from  which  was  derived  the  handsome  specimen  shown  in  the 
illustration.  The  youngster  is  now  doing  finely  in  the  Bronx  aviary.  Un 
fortunately  he  is  a  male>  so  that  his  hope  of  posterity  rests  entirely  upon 
the  success  of  another  expedition  to  the  Filbert  Islands. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     131 

shadow  yet  deeper  shrouded  our  hearts.  Each  of 
us  carried  the  consciousness  of  a  terrible  duty.  We 
ought  to  leave  the  Filberts. 

Broken-heartedly  we  talked  over  the  situation. 

"Getting  worse,"  was  Whinney's  report.  "Saw 
Baahaabaa  scratching  his  leg  this  morning — prob 
ably  got  it." 

Poor  Baahaabaa,  how  my  heart  ached  for  him. 

"We  ought  to  leave,"  I  said. 

It  was  the  first  time  any  of  us  had  dared  state 
the  hideous  truth  in  plain  words.  They  fell  like 
lead  on  our  spirits.  Swank's  sensitive  soul  was 
perhaps  the  most  harrowed  of  all. 

He  sat  moaning  on  the  taffrail  taking  little  or  no 
part  in  the  discussion.  All  at  once  he  sprang  up 
with  blazing  eyes. 

"I  can't  do  it!"  he  shouted.  "I  can't— and  I 
won't.  Blessed  little  Lupoba, — my  Mist-on-the- 
Mountain.  How  can  I  desert  you?  How  can  we 
any  of  us  desert  our  wives — let  us  stay,  let  us  live, 
and,  if  we  must,  let  us  die.  Love  is  more  than  life." 

It  was  a  powerful  appeal.  Overwrought  as  I 
was,  I  nearly  succumbed  to  the  false  reasoning 
which  was  but  the  expression  of  my  desire.  And 
then  once  more  the  vision  of  those  deadly  inroads 
of  disease  rose  before  me. 


132     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

"Whinney,"  I  asked,  "is  there  no  cure  for  this 
awful  thing?  No  antitoxin?" 

He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"We  have  been  studying  it  for  years.  The  only 
hope  is  in  their  complete  isolation.  If  we  stay 
here  .  .  .  and  a  second  epidemic  breaks  out  .  .  ."; 
he  shrugged  hopelessly  and  Swank  buried  his  face 
in  the  bilge-sponge. 

"Enough!"  I  said  sternly.  "Triplett,  when 
can  we  leave?" 

"Tonight,  sir,"  he  answered  with  his  old  sub 
servience.  "I've  got  her  completely  stored,  wa 
tered  and  ready." 

"Come  on,"  I  said  shortly.  "We  must  get 
William  Henry  Thomas." 

We  swam  ashore  dejectedly,  each,  I  know,  con 
templating  suicide.  For  an  hour  we  visited  our 
friends.  For  them  it  was  but  a  friendly  call,  for 
us  the  agony  of  parting. 

Gentle,  dignified  Baahaabaa,  shall  I  ever  forget 
you  as  you  stood  with  your  hands  resting  on  my 
shoulder,  confidently  expecting  to  see  me  on  the 
morrow! — Merry  Hitoia-Upa,  kindly  Ablutiluti, 
and  Moolitonu,  oh!  that  I  might  send  some  message 
across  the  waste  of  waters  to  tell  your  loving  hearts 
of  the  love  which  still  kindles  in  mine. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     133 

We  did  not  dare  visit  our  wives. 

At  dusk,  that  our  conference  might  be  unnoticed, 
we  found  our  way  to  the  William  Henry  Thomas 
family  tree. 

He  came  down  instantly.  All  his  old  deference 
was  gone.  Something  in  the  straight  look  of  his 
eye  told  me  that  his  christening  had  worked  a 
tremendous  moral  change  in  the  man,  but  I  was 
not  prepared  for  its  extent. 

"Not  me,"  he  said  briefly,  when  we  explained  the 
necessity  of  our  departure.  "Not  by  a  damn  sight." 

In  vain  we  reasoned,  urged  and  argued. 

"Don't  you  want  to  go  back  to  your  own 
people?"  asked  Swank  weakly. 

A  mocking  laugh  was  the  reply. 

"My  own  people!  Who  was  I  among  my  own 
people?  Just  a  bunch  of  first  names — no  last 
name  at  all.  William  Henry  Thomas!  That's 
a  hell  of  a  bunch  of  names.  Who  am  I  here? 
Fatakahala — Flower  of  Darkness — I  guess  that'll 
be  about  all.  Good  night,  gentlemen." 

With  the  agility  of  a  monkey  he  bounded  up 
his  tree  and  disappeared.  I  stood  at  the  foot  of 
the  tree  and  tried  to  argue  further  with  him. 
"Remember  Henry  James,"  I  shouted.  "Think  of 
Charles  Henry  George."  It  was  in  vain. 


134     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

Swank  started  after  him,  but  as  he  reached  the 
floor-level  a  large  hola-nut  struck  him  squarely  on 
the  top  of  the  head  and  he  fell  back,  stunned. 

Still  further  depressed  we  made  our  way  back  to 
the  Kawa,  our  hearts  aching  as  with  the  hurt  of 
burns,  a  dull,  throbbing  torture. 

"Drink?''  said  Captain  Triplett  in  his  most 
treacly  manner.  He  held  out  a  cup  of  lava-lava, 
the  most  deadly  beverage  of  the  islands.  It  is 
mixed  with  phosphorus  and  glows  and  tastes  like 
hell-fire.  I  saw  his  plan  and  for  once  was  grateful. 
We  took  the  bowl  from  his  hands  and  filed  into 
the  tiny  cabin — each  picking  out  a  corner  to  fall  in. 

In  silence  we  filled  our  shells  and  raised  them  to 
our  lips,  the  last  thought  of  each  of  us  for  our  lost 
loved  ones! 

Hours — perhaps  days — later  I  was  dimly  aware  of 
a  soft  sobbing  sound  near  my  ear.  Was  it  Swank 
crying?  And  then  I  realized  that  it  was  the 
chuckling  of  water  under  the  Kawa's  counter  as 
manned  by  the  intrepid  Triplett  she  merrily  footed 
it  over  the  wrinkled  sea. 


CHAPTER  X 

Once  more  the  "Kawa"  foots  the  sea.  Triplets  ob 
servations  and  our  assistance.  The  death  of  the 
compass-plant.  Lost!  An  orgy  of  desperation. 
Oblivion  and  excess.  The  "Kawa9  brings  us 
home.  Our  reception  in  Papeete.  A  celebration 
at  the  Tiare. 


CHAPTER  X 

THAT  Triplett's  refitting  of  the  Kawa  had  been 
thorough  and  seamanlike  was  amply  proven  by 
the  speed  with  which  she  traveled  under  the  favor 
ing  trades.  When  our  saddened  but  still  intrepid 
ship's  company  reassembled  on  our  limited  quarter 
deck  there  was  no  sign  of  land  visible  in  any  direc 
tion.  The  horizon  stretched  about  our  collective 
heads  like  an  enormous  wire  halo.  It  was  as  if 
the  Filberts  had  never  existed. 

The  captain  alone  was  cheerful.  Joy  bubbled 
from  that  calloused  heart  of  his  in  striking  con 
trast  to  the  gloom  of  his  companions.  Most  of 
the  time  he  was  our  helmsman,  his  eye  cocked  aloft 
at  the  taut  halyards  of  eva-eva,  occasionally 
glancing  from  the  sun  to  the  compass-plant  which 
bloomed  in  a  shell  of  fresh  water  lashed  to  an 
improvised  binnacle. 

At  regular  intervals  he  took  observations,  figured 

137 


138     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

the  results,  and  jotted  down  our  probable  course 
on  his  chart.  This  document  we  could  scarcely 
bear  to  look  at  for  upon  it  our  beloved  island 
figured  prominently.  But  the  course  of  the  Kawa 
interested  us.  It  was  a  contradictory  course  and 
even  Triplett  seemed  puzzled  by  the  results  of  his 
calculations. 

"Can't  quite  figger  it  out,"  he  would  mutter, 
lowering  the  astrolabe  from  its  aim  at  the  sun — 
"accordin'  to  this  here  jackass-quadrant  we  orter 
be  dee-creesing  our  latitude — but  the  answer 
comes  out  different." 

"Too  much  jackass  and  too  little  quadrant," 
snapped  Swank,  whose  nerves  were  still  like  E 
strings. 

Little  by  little,  however,  the  calm  of  the  great 
ocean  invaded  our  souls  and  that  well-known 
influence  (mentioned  in  so  many  letters  of  con 
solation),  "the  hand  of  time,"  soothed  the  pain  in 
our  hearts.  I  think  it  was  the  quiet,  self-contained 
Whinney  who  brought  the  most  reasoned  philoso 
phy  to  bear  on  the  situation. 

"They  will  forget,"  he  said  one  evening,  as  we 
sat  watching  the  Double  Cross  slowly  revolve 
about  its  axis.  "We  must  remember  that  they 
are  a  race  of  children.  They  have  no  written 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     139 

records  of  the  past,  no  anticipations  of  the  future. 
They  live  for  the  present.  Childlike,  they  will 
grieve  deeply,  for  a  day  maybe;  then  another  sun 
will  rise,  Baahaabaa  will  give  another  picnic — " 
he  sighed  deeply. 

"The  tragedy  of  it  is  that  their  memories  should 
be  so  short  and  ours  so  long,"  I  commented. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Swank,  "but  I  suppose  we  ought 
to  be  thankful.  They  were  a  wonderful  people, 
it  was  a  wonderful  experience.  And  no  matter 
what  art-juries  of  the  future  may  do  to  me,  my 
pictures  were  a  success  in  the  Filberts." 

Blessed  old  Swank,  he  always  looked  on  the 
bright  side  of  things! 

Day  by  day  matters  mended — and  our  spirits 
rose.  We  began  to  think  more  and  more  of  getting 
in  touch  with  civilization.  What  a  tale  we  should 
have  to  tell.  How  we  should  put  it  over  the  other 
explorers  with  their  trite  Solomons  and  thread 
bare  Marquesas! 

"Where  do  you  think  we'll  land,  Captain?"  I 
asked  Triplett. 

"Hard  to  say,"  he  answered,  "accordin'  to 
compass-plant  I'm  steerin'  a  straight  course  for 
anywhere,  but  accordin'  to  the  jackass  (he  had 
dropped  the  word  "quadrant"  since  Swank's 


BAAHAABAA  MOURNING  THE  DEPARTURE  OF  HIS  FRIENDS 

In  all  the  history  of  great  friendships  there  is  nothing  more  touching  and 
more  noble  than  the  beautiful  bond  which  existed  between  Baahaabaa,  the 
simple,  primitive  chief  of  the  Filbertines  and  the  white  men  who  spent 
the  happiest  months  of  their  lives  on  his  island  and  then  so  strangely  van 
ished.  For  several  days  after  their  departure  he  spoke  no  word.  But 
every  evening  at  sunset  he  took  his  place  opposite  an  opening  in  the  reef 
where  the  Kawa  had  first  made  her  appearance  and  there  he  sat  until  dark 
ness  covered  him.  "Whom  are  you  awaiting?"  his  chieftains  asked  him. 
He  shook  his  head  mournfully;  memories  in  the  Filberts  are  mercifully  short. 
Then  placing  his  hand  over  his  heart  he  said,  "I  know  not  who  it  is,  but 
something  is  gone — from  here." 

Three  weeks  later  when  this  photograph  was  taken  he  was  still  keeping  up 
his  lonely  vigil. 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     141 

thrust)  we're  spinnin'  a  web  round  these  seas 
from  where  we  started  to  nowhere  via  where 
we  be." 

We  tried  to  help  him.  While  the  Captain  pointed 
his  astrolabe  sunward  and  announced  the  figures 
Wliinney  and  I,  like  tailors'  assistants,  took  them 
down,  Whinney  doing  the  adding,  I  the  subracting 
and  Swank  the  charting.  The  results  were  con 
fusion  worse  confounded. 

And  then  a  dreadful  thing  happened. 

The  compass-plant  sickened  and  died. 

Whether  some  sea-water  splashed  into  the  shell 
or  whether  it  was  just  change  of  environment,  I  do 
not  know.  But  day  by  day  it  drooped  and  faded. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  night  she  breathed  her 
last.  With  white  faces  we  sat  about  the  tiny 
brown  bowl  in  which  lay  our  hope  of  orientation. 
In  Triplett's  great  rough  paw  was  a  fountain-pen 
filler  of  fresh  water  which  he  gently  dropped  on  the 
flowerlet's  unturned  face.  At  exactly  one-thirty, 
solar  time,  the  tiny  petals  fluttered  faintly  and 
closed. 

"She's  gone,"  groaned  Triplett,  and  dashed  a 
tear,  the  size  of  a  robin's  egg,  from  his  furrowed 
cheek.  In  that  ghastly  light  we  stared  at  each 
other. 


142     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

We  were  lost! 

From  then  on  we  gave  up  all  attempts  at  naviga 
tion  and  went  in  for  plain  sailing.  Taking  an 
approximate  north  from  sun  and  stars  we  simply 
headed  our  tight  little  craft  on  her  way  and  let  her 
pound. 

A  sort  of  desperate  feeling,  the  panic  which 
always  comes  to  those  who  are  lost,  led  us  to  wild 
outbursts  of  gaiety  and  certain  excesses  in  the 
matter  of  use  of  our  supplies.  Every  evening  we 
opened  fresh  gourds  of  hoopa  and  made  large 
inroads  into  our  stores  of  pai,  pickled  gobangs 
and  raw  crawfish. 

How  long  this  kept  up  I  cannot  say,  for  we  had 
given  up  time  reckoning  along  with  other  forms  of 
arithmetic.  But  I  well  remember  that  it  was  the 
Captain  who  had  to  intervene  at  last. 

"Look  here,  boys,"  he  said.  "Do  you  realize 
that  you're  eatin*  an'  drinkin'  yourselves  outer 
house  an'  home?  We  got  jest  a  week's  grub  in 
our  lockers,  if  we  go  on  short  rations.  Beyond 
that," — he  waved  his  arm  toward  the  ocean,  as  if 
to  say  "overboard  for  ours." 

"Look  here!"  cried^wank  excitedly,  "do  you 
suppose  I  want  to  go  in  for  one  of  these  slow  starva 
tion  stunts,  perishing  miserably  on  half  a  biscuit 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     143 

a  day!  O  man!  that's  old  stuff.  Every  explorer 
that  ever  wrote  has  done  that,  you  know — falling 
insensible  in  the  boat,  drifting  around  for  weeks, 
being  towed  into  port,  sunbaked,  like  mummies. 
Not  on  your  life!  What  I  propose  is  one  final 
party — let's  eat  the  whole  outfit  tonight,  hook, 
line  and  sinker." 

We  carried  the  proposition  by  acclamation, 
except  Triple tt  who  spat  sourly  to  windward,  a 
thing  few  men  can  do.  And  we  were  as  good  as 
our  word. 

Late  into  the  night  we  roared  our  sea-songs  over 
the  indifferent  ocean,  pledging  our  lost  ones,  sing 
ing,  laughing  and  weeping  with  the  abandon  of 
lost  sheep.  With  Triplett  it  was  a  case  of  forcible 
feeding  for  he  kept  trying  to  secrete  his  share 
of  the  menu  in  various  parts  of  his  person,  slipping 
fistsful  of  crawfish  in  his  shirt-bosom  and  pouring 
his  cup  of  hoopa  into  an  old  fire-extinguisher  which 
rolled  in  the  ship's  waist.  Pinioning  his  arms  we 
squirted  the  fiery  liquid  between  his  set  jaws,  after 
which  he  too  gave  himself  up  to  unrestrained 
celebration. 

Our  supplies  lasted  for  two  days,  and  for  two 
days  our  wild  orgy  continued. 

We  have  all  read  of  the  hunter  lost  in  trackless 


144     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

forest  wilds  who  finally  falls  exhausted  on  his 
pommel  and  is  brought  safely  home  by  his  loose- 
reined  mustang. 

That  is  exactly  what  happened  to  us.  I  know 
I  am  departing  from  literary  custom  when  I 
abandon  the  picture  of  slow  starvation,  with  its 
attractive  episodes  of  shoe-eating,  sea-drinking, 
madness,  cannibalism  and  suicide  which  make  up 
the  final  scene  of  most  tales  of  adventure.  But  I 
must  tell  the  truth. 

While  we  caroused,  our  helm  was  free,  the  tiller 
banging,  sail  flapping,  boom  gibing,  blocks  rattling. 
It  was  as  if  we  had  thrown  the  reins  of  guidance 
on  the  neck  of  our  staunch  little  seahorse  and  she, 
superbly  sturdy  creature,  proceeded  to  bring  us 
home.  On  we  went  across  the  waters,  steered 
only  by  fate. 

In  the  midst  of  a  rousing  rendering  of  "Hail,  hail, 
the  gang's  all  here,"  we  were  startled  by  a  grind 
ing  crash  that  threw  us  in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 
Down  the  companion  way  burst  a  flood  of  green 
water  through  which  we  struggled  to  the  steeply 
slanting  deck,  where  on  our  port  bow  I  glimpsed 
the  picture  of  a  pleasant  sandy  beach,  trees,  ships, 
docks,  a  large  white  hotel  and  hundreds  of  people — 
white  and  brown,  in  bathing!  In  one  thundering 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA     145 

burst  of  amazement  the  truth  swept  over  me; 
we  were  in  the  harbor  of  Papeete!  In  the  next 
instant  strong  arms  seized  me  and  I  was  borne 
through  the  breakers  and  up  the  beach. 

Well,  they  were  all  there!  O'Brien — dear  old 
Fred,  and  Martin  Johnson,  just  in  from  the 
Solomons  with  miles  of  fresh  film ;  McFee,  stopping 
over  night  on  his  way  to  the  West  Indies;  Bill 
Beebe,  with  his  pocket  full  of  ants;  Safroni, 
"Mac"  MacQuarrie,  Freeman,  "Cap"  Bligh— 
thinner  than  when  I  last  saw  him  in  Penang — and, 
greatest  surprise  of  all,  a  bluff,  harris-tweeded 
person  who  peered  over  the  footboard  of  my  bed 
and  roared  in  rough  sea-tones: 

"Well,  as  I  live  and  breathe,  Walter  Traprock!" 

It  was  Joe  Conrad. 

I  told  my  story  that  night  in  the  dining-room 
of  the  Tiare,  or,  at  least,  I  told  just  enough  of  it  to 
completely  knock  my  audience  off  their  seats.  For 
many  good  reasons  I  avoided  exact  details  of 
latitude,  longitude,  and  the  like. 

No  island  is  sacred  among  explorers. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  said,  rather  neatly,  "I  cannot 
give  you  the  Filberts' latitude  or  longitude.  But 
I  will  say  that  their  pulchritude  is  100!" 

The  place  was  in  an  uproar.     They  plied  me 


146     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  KAWA 

with  questions,  and  Dr.  Funk's!  It  was  a  night 
of  rejoicing  and  triumph  which  I  shall  never  forget, 
and  which  only  Fred  O'Brien  can  describe. 

The  later  results  are  too  well  known  to  need 
recital,  Swank's  success,  Whinney's  position  in  the 
Academy  of  Sciences,  my  own  recognition  by  the 
Royal  Geographic  Society. 

The  tight  little  K awa  still  rides  the  seas,  Trip- 
lett  in  command.  She  is  kept  fully  stocked,  ready 
to  sail  at  a  moment's  notice.  Soon,  perhaps,  the 
wanderlust  will  seize  us  again  and,  throwing  down 
our  lightly  won  honors,  we  will  once  more  head  for 
the  trackless  trail. 

But  we  will  not  make  for  the  Filberts.  Too 
tender  are  the  memories  which  wreathe  those  opal 
isles,  too  irrevocable  the  changes  which  must  have 
taken  place.  Rather  let  us  preserve  their  un- 
dimmed  beauty  in  our  hearts. 

On  our  next  trip  we  have  agreed,  all  of  us,  that 
by  far  the  best  plan  will  be  to  leave  the  choice  of 
our  route,  destination  and  return  (if  any)  to  the 
Kawa  herself. 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY  WALTER  E.  TRAPROCK 


Who's  Hula  in  Hawaii 1899 

Dances,  Near-dances  and  No-dances  of  the 

Far  East 1902 

Through  Borneo  on  a  Bicycle 1904 

Curry-Dishes  for  Moderate  Incomes 1907 

Sobs  from  the  South  Seas — Poems 1912 

Around  Russia  on  Roller  Skates 1917 

Crazy  With  Tahiti — Translations  from  Native 

Folklore 1918 

How  to  Explore,  and  What 1919 

NOTE — Most  of  the  above  are  out  of  print.  The 
author  still  has  a  few  copies  of  "Curry-Dishes  for 
Moderate  Incomes"  which  may  be  had  at  the 
publication  price,  $200. 


SEE  THE 

SOUTH  SEAS 


S.  S.  Love-nest,  sailing  from  San  Francisco, 
June  1st,  Sept.  3rd,  Dec.  2nd  and  March  7th. 
Three  months'  cruise. 

See  the  cute  cannibals.  Excursion  rates  for 
round  trip  with  stops  at  all  important  islands. 
Everybody's  doing  it.  Don't  be  a  back 
number. 


SEE  THE  SOUTH  SEAS 

Rates  and  diagrams  upon  application  to 

W.  E.  TRAPROCK 

54  W.  45th  Street,  New  York  City 


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